Le Secrétaire
by a failed writer
Summary: K. Rukia is Kurosaki Ichigo's secretary.
1. Chapter 1

He wasn't recuperating from a broken leg nor did he witness a murder, and more importantly, he wasn't sure his office had what qualified as a rear window. If anything, he was just innocently peeping, not even nearing that of a voyeur, at his newest secretary.

[Four Weeks Ago]

 _"What's your surname?"_

 _It was as if his interviewee was waiting for this question as her smirk – one that she brought in since her interview, annoying him to no end – if anyone, he should be the one smirking!_

 _"The name is K. K. Rukia," she responded, dully, her voice deep, nearing a baritone register._

 _Ichigo was sure he could hear the James Bond theme pouring in from somewhere._

 _All was quiet in the western front of the office until this K. Rukia person giggled. A high-pitched tone that contradicted her actual voice register._

 _"So, your family's name is K?" Ichigo queried, wondering if he was about to hire a shady nutcase that changed her identity on a daily basis. Hell, K. might have been a pseudo name, a decoy to deflect in case legalities and political force entered._

 _Though the giggling didn't cease, she shrugged. After catching a few breaths from all that giggling, she responded, "I choose to deviate my surname however I want to. Right now, I decided to shorten my family name to a simple K, just like several authors do in their books. Anonymity these days is very important. The less letters you give out, the safer you might be, of course, that could be moot since people are peeping toms on and offline." She raised her eyebrow at him, as if daring him to contradict her next words. "Do you have a problem with how I would like to be identified?"_

 _It was his turn to shrug his shoulders at her, hoping to get a real rise from her. There was something about her, something he couldn't quite identify, perhaps her quiet yet powerful disembodied charisma that somehow exuded off her miniature frame, but her entry forced all that chattering in the office to cease as she sat down, waiting for her time, and pulled out a volume of The Space Adventures of Chappy manga out of her noticeably expensive Louis Vuitton briefcase. She sat there just laughing and laughing, up until her interview appointment._

 _And Ichigo, a wannabe masked vigilante with a hero complex who sometimes believed he had to know every minute details about the people working for his developing startup tech company, he needed them to be upstanding citizens of whatever they called themselves as they were misplaced in society._

 _"I don't have any authority or power over you right this second." He paused for effect. "But at the same time, I may be your potential boss, so if you want me to hire you, then you need to answer my questions honestly."_

 _He chanced a look at her, wondering if he broke her tough walls, although she was giggling nonstop some eons ago._

 _She nodded as if agreeing to his terms. "Okay." And she stood up, her spine must have balanced her frame with dignity since her posture was almost too maddeningly impeccable. Either that or she was the very robot prototypes that he was waiting to design. Oh, the endless possibilities._

 _Ichigo forgot she was stood up while his ass was still firmly on the soft cushions of his chair. "Eh?"_

 _"This is where I bid you farewell, Mr. Kurosaki."_

 _"Huh?"_

 _"Farewell."_

 _"Wait? What?"_

 _Now it was her turn to stare at him as if he was the giggling lunatic._

 _He had to clear his throat, but in all honesty, her stare, though not menacing, almost had the power to shoot laser beams, rendering him into precarious microscopic particles that could be swept by the wind, vacuumed into oblivion only to be thrown out into some dumpster all bagged without air, or being swept by a broom, something that his father always wanted to do during his childhood._

 _"I beg your pardon, er, Miss K.?"_

 _Still staring at him, she responded, "I see you need more words to compute in that rather miniscule brain of yours, Mr. Kurosaki." He was about to lash out at her before she continued. "I answered your question didn't I?"_

 _Now it was his turn to be confused. "You did?"_

 _In verbatim, she repeated her exact answer and question from exactly three minutes prior to his confusion. He could feel heat rising as his ears felt hot and the burning rage had to simmer down before boiling over. This smartass. Never in a million years would he hire her._

 _"Fine. You may go. And might I add, you just lost all of your chances of being in this field."_

 _"I was about to, but you seem to be the type to exert their authority so you can have the last word. And to be presumptuous about my future in 'this field,' is none of your concern, you orange mop. Farewell, Kurosaki Ichigo. Long, live, and prosper." Her left hand raised, he expected her to slap him, to perform the Vulcan salute._

 _He was glad he didn't tell her to fuck off because she was trying his patience. How dare she disrespect him and stared at him as if he was an insignificant being! How dare she-_

 _"Kurosaki-kun?!"_

 _"I told you Urahara-san! You need to knock before bursting in!"_

 _He used his fan to gesture, as if Ichigo's request was insignificant. "We're partners, Kurosaki-kun. Might I add, I asked you to join me in opening this place."_

 _Ichigo grumbled._

 _"Why did you let K.-san leave?"_

 _"Who?"_

 _"K. Rukia."_

 _"Oh, her? Because she wasn't qualified."_

 _"Who said?"_

 _"I did."_

 _"Did you look at her CV?"_

 _"No, but really, Urahara-san, anyone can be my secretary." He opened her folder, which consisted of other things. But in all honesty, he was so taken by her appearance, a short woman with such a deep voice, deeper than his, that he forgot to look at her CV, which was placed at the back. "I'm sure - holy shit!"_

 _"Exactly."_

Ichigo wasn't sure why she decided to apply. Becoming Kurosaki Ichigo's personal secretary at the startup was beyond her capabilities. She was simply over qualified, yet she didn't show any qualms, telling him that no position is beneath anyone. A job was a job to bring experience and of course money.

She was something. Despite _choosing_ to 'more than hyphenate her family name,' she preferred being called Rukia. Though Urahara and other colleagues chose to call her K.-san, believing to fit her mysterious persona she built within the barriers of their cubicles, though Rukia's desk was in an open-area, where she could see everything with her quizzical, engaging eyes.

His phone rang.

He continued staring at her as she seemed to have spaced out, not typing, not reading files on her iMac, not doing anything. The inevitable was coming; he had to speak to her about how she was not performing her duties as his secretary. That or she must be bored out of her mind, but she chose this position, this current life of hers. "Kurosaki speaking."

"Kurosaki-kun!"

He blinked, the wheels of his chair swiveled as he noticed that Rukia was slowly turning to look at his office, possibly aware that he was creeping on her. Again.

"Inoue?"

"Are we still meeting for dinner?"

He frowned, wanting to roll his eyes. He knew casual dating was troublesome, but he didn't expect that she always had to remind him. On a textual basis.

"Yes. Inoue, you could have just texted me."

The line went silent until he heard the unmistakable drone of being hung up.

Then came that text message with Inoue's long apology appeal and how she was excited to see him again.

He sighed. He needed to rethink some choices. Perhaps not dating previously employed personal secretaries being on his priority list.

He always hated to-do lists.

.

.

.

She was comfortably positioned at her desk, legs crossed as free foot tapped against the floor, her loafers making that clacking noise that bothered him.

"Rukia?" Ichigo called, more like commanded.

"Hm?" She craned her neck to look at him.

"Why aren't you working?"

"What makes you think I didn't work, Mr. Kurosaki?" Her voice friendly but scathingly condescending. Ever since he hired her, she was condescending to him, but perhaps in fairness, he was always patronizing her.

"Exhibit A: you're sitting around, clocking in hours, doing nothing. Exhibit B: you've completed nothing since 11am. Need I say more?"

Her legs uncrossed themselves as she fully turned to look at him. For a moment he thought he had her cornered in their overly-petty and revenged-fueled chess game. It appeared they were made to exist in this world to coexist to annoy the hell out of each other. It was apparent since her entry here.

That bland look turned into something more, resulting in that all too irritating, all knowing smirk. "So, the great genius of this startup tech also creeps on his colleagues?"

Difficult as it was, Ichigo made sure to keep his blush from erupting again. "Employee."

"I'm sorry?" That smirk was stretching more and more.

"You're my employee."

She nodded. "So the company's oh so different mission statement about 'not employees, but comrades' was nothing but mere false advertising? Good to know."

She always had the ability to have the last word, and contradicting him, as if she was the one in power. In fact, he felt that she had power over him. Her boss."

"Just answer the goddamn question, Rukia."

"To answer one of your many growing questions that I've mentally listed, the answer is, yes, I have completed all tasks assigned since I walked into the office and clocked in." She looked at her iMac, checking the time. "Since 9:52am, I've responded, forwarded, and composed original emails that you asked me to. I've also read over all reports from all departments and created an iCalendar for this month's and next month's projected deadlines and other incoming projects that may be rife with sci-fi metaphors. As of now, the time being 11:45am, I am waiting for possible responses."

Again, it was embarrassing, but this woman continued to surprise him. Unless she was boasting, he was sure she wasn't lying. Nothing indicated that she wasn't honest. Whether it was him, his other employees – sorry, colleagues – or even strangers, she not once had told an ill-planned lie. Though the mysteries surrounding her surname was suspicious, her violet eyes, not contacts, reflected her honest demeanor. At least that made sense to him. And if he was honest with himself, her eyes were what pulled him. Not to her, but like a magnet, her eyes pulling him to her.

He really hated himself sometimes.

"So, you're telling me, in less than two hours, you completed all designated tasks?"

"I am."

Before he knew it, he blurted, "What the hell!?"

The smirk turned into an amused smile. "What can I say? I type 90 words per minute with 100 percent accuracy. Did you not read my CV?"

Of course he did, but he didn't want to acknowledge anything that would increase the size of her already enlarged ego. Really, she had no reasons being here.

A slender finger tapped her chin annoyingly. "Oh, or did you hire me for my looks?"

"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer."

"I was about to call you a cliché since in several schematic cinematic tropes, big bad bosses often like to bed their secretaries."

Ichigo felt like he was about to be lectured about his chosen hookups, for the lack of a better descriptor. And by a person who he non-verbally respected and felt a magnetic, gravitational pull to. Which was rather bizarre since her carefully organized wit was her biggest weapon that he absolutely despised.

Words escaped him. "Whatever. Start acting like a secretary and stop your yakking."

It was her turn to look confused, an expression that was randomly assigned to her face when time called for it. "So, instead of being expected to perform my gender, an outdated expectation that was non-scientifically and biologically ingrained and socially constructed to people, I'm expected to perform to fit in within the physical parameters of my employed position? One that might be socially rooted unfairly upon my gender?"

Too many questions that he didn't pay attention to and he didn't want to seem like he was incompetent as a good listener, a boss who carefully listened to his employees – no colleagues.

"Whatever. Yeah, do as I say."

"Duly noted."

.

.

.

It was a truly a bizarre sight upon entering the sliding glass doors. K. Rukia was filing her nails and obnoxiously smacking her pink gum with the occasional blowing of bubbles. She even changed her black hipster glasses to a red one. While she dressed the part of a secretary already, it was amazing how colorful her wardrobe was, and as Yadōmaru Risa labeled, Rukia's high-fashion was least three years ahead of the current fashion magazines and catalogues. And while her current black and white checkered pencil skirt and plain white blouse combination was classic and tailored, it didn't seem to fit her quiet yet highly pretentious demeanor, because her fashion contradicted her personality, something that she reveled about herself.

He really needed to stop paying more attention to her.

"What's this?"

The nail file never stopped moving its rhythmic functions and her eyes never lost focused, probably because she didn't want to lose a fingernail. "I'm afraid I don't understand the question. I'm here, sitting like the great secretary I am. What's not to get with this image?"

"Why are you filing your nails?"

Eyes still didn't linger away from her task. "Oh this? I'm performing as a stereotypical secretary. After watching the entire sets of _Ghostbusters_ , the cartoon series, three seasons of _Mad_ Men, because I need to binge the entire series later when life isn't busy, and the film _Secretary_ , staring Maggie Gyllenhaal and James Spader, I'm attempting to mimic what it means to be your secretary. I just finished reading four entertainment magazines, and this was the next secretarial thing to do."

Ichigo wanted to fall on the floor, wanting to feel the harsh coolness of the bacterial floors to hit his forehead. He had to be dreaming. People like K. Rukia did not exist. She was too strange, almost a nonhuman to exist in this world with him. But then again, they were meant to coexist.

She stopped filing her nails, placing the filer done as she inspected her nails. "Though I have to say, after watching _500_ _Days_ _of_ _Summer_ , I prefer the term personal assistant, but I guess it's too late on what I _want_ , huh?"

"Rukia! You're doing this to mock me!"

She smacked her gum, purposely to annoy him, putting on that horrible, stereotypical Brooklyn accent that resembled the voice actress of Janine Melnitz's character incarnation. "You're confusing me, Mr. Kurosaki." Smack, smack. "First you tell me how to do my job." Bubble pop. "Then you tell me how to act like a secretary, acting as your secretary. So here I am. Nothing ever satisfies you, huh?" Smack, smack.

"Stop that."

Another bubble pop. "What?"

"Your smacking. It's rude, very unbecoming of you."

The smacking stop. "Oh good lord. You sound like _him_." She nearly growled the last part out.

Instead of realizing the undertones of her repressed anger, he only heard what his ears could only hear upon creeping operation: _him_. Who was she referring to? Who is/was _him_?

Before he could not mind his business, demanding to know who _him_ was, her phone rang.

Delicately spitting her gum onto a tissue, rolling it, and then properly disposing it to her trash bin, she picked up the phone. "Hello, Shoten's. This is K. Rukia speaking, how may I help you?"

Thank goodness she didn't use that horrible Brooklyn accent. That would have been embarrassing for both the company and her.

Not that he cared if she embarrassed herself. He had to keep telling himself that.

He observed Rukia for a bit, always liking how she handled her secretarial job. She was really an elegant secretary. If there was an award for most graceful secretary, she was the only candidate to win.

His mind liked to wander these days.

Before he walked away from her desk, Rukia lifted her right index finger into the air, signaling him to halt his exit.

Puzzlement morphed into worry when he read her mouth: _Riruka_.

But he had to stifle a chortle because she looked confused. The name must have thrown her off. She probably thought how her name was unique, but of course, she never knew a Riruka, one of his many past secretaries and flings, existed.

He frantically waved a hand, signaling back to her, asking her to lie.

"Oh, I sincerely apologize Dokugamine-san, Mr. Kurosaki is not in his office right now. He has several appointments today. Could I take a message for him?"

Ichigo silently sighed, relief reentering his body, allowing him to breathe again. Although being caught as a boss who had several sexual relationships with his secretary, Rukia never judged hm. Probably because she wasn't attracted to him, which bothered him, but that meant they could be together – working together, that is – longer.

He mouthed a thank you to Rukia, causing her to flash a smirk. As he walked towards his office, he could hear Rukia diligently telling Riruka that she was not like the _others_ because she would never risk her job in favor of temporary sexual release.

He didn't know what hurt more. Inferring him as a man who only wanted sex with his secretaries, and leaving them after a certain date, unfairly labeling them as expiration dates, or her not being attracted to him. Because he would be lying to himself, feeding himself lies and scenarios on his non-growing attraction to Rukia. And he was pretty sure it wasn't because she was his secretary. Not this time.

.

.

.

For once, Rukia was furiously typing, eyes occupied on whatever information was filled on her second monitor's screen. It was as if her eyes commanded the synchronization of her entire body. It was a fascinating sight to him.

All was quiet and peaceful until Senna marched in and started yelling at her.

"How dare you monopolize Ichigo's time away from me!"

Fingers never stopped typing as she disinterestedly responded, "I'm sorry. What Ichigo does with his personal time doesn't concern me. And it absolutely doesn't concern me what you _do_ with him on your own time."

The innuendo couldn't be missed for those who were able to hear the double entendre.

"You bitch! How dare you speak to me like that!" Senna screamed.

She was still typing. "I'm not sure how you contextually interpreted that as rude, but it was quite specific and valid. If anything, you're the one causing the scene. I'm just Mr. Kurosaki's secretary, so I suggest that you leave before you regret it."

She probably shouldn't have the last bit because it provided Senna with the ammunition to fire. "So, _you_ are aware that your merely Ichigo's secretary now huh? Does he let you know that your job description consists of him banging you if he wants."

"Senna!" Ichigo roared. "I told you it was over. Leave Shoten right now."

He desperately wanted to apologize to Rukia. His past was causing havoc to his present and there was a possible chance, a high probability even, that any chances of becoming anything with Rukia, a physical relationship or even a platonic one, evaporated at this very instant.

"You're here, Ichigo! All that snarl instantly disappeared at the sight of Ichigo's lean yet muscular form. She ran over to him. "I've missed you so much, Ichigo!"

After a quick glance at Rukia, making sure Senna's outbursts didn't affect her. Fortunately, her expression never changed as she continued to type, although her eyes showed something akin to anger. Perhaps the ice queen misnomer was inaccurate. She could experience sensations after all. There was a slight twitch of emotion if one drugged deeper into her personal abyss to uncover it.

Senna hugged him, but Ichigo remained still, refusing to extend the intimacy. "Get out, Senna. I'm asking you politely before I call security."

"Wh-whaat?!" But Ichigo!"

In a hushed, angry tone, he slowly but clearly repeated what he told her earlier,, "I told you four weeks ago, we're over. There's nothing else to say. And before you leave, apologize to Rukia."

"Ichigo! I left my fiancé for you! And in no way in hell will I apologize to your latest bitch." Senna wailed, but Ichigo didn't care, centering his focus on Rukia, who finally finished typing whatever she was required to do. But instead of shifting her eyes to the ongoing drama, where several of their colleagues were in tuned to, she focused on her phone, furiously typing again. Perhaps texting a friend, _him_ , or researching about his liaisons.

Several hours after Senna's dramatic entrance and equally theatrical exit, Rukia was brewing another pot of coffee as she diligently maintained her role as a secretary. She was reading the newspaper, fully absorbed in the words being printed on the paper. Really, she was nearing the status of a method actor.

This was perhaps the best time to approach her and apologize.

She turned a page and positioned paper for a less awkward view since the paper was much sizable, compared to her. She was reading one of the many profiles of Kuchiki Byakuya, founder and CEO of Kageyoshi Press.

"Rukia," he hesitantly called out.

His voice must have made her entire body stiffen since her posture turned rigid. "Mr. Kurosaki, hello."

"I'm sorry about what happened earlier."

Still so very stiff. "It's not your fault."

"I'm the instigator."

"Yes, you were. I'm just surprised someone has intelligent as you are blurred the boundaries between professional and private. But then according to several literature, there are no boundaries between the two since they often seep through one another. This is especially true when it comes to social media. But again, isn't it common knowledge to not engage in fornication with your colleagues because it gets – oh I don't know, messy?"

Ouch. No one has ever really called him out of his behavior. His privilege and current tech standing seemed to be those unfairly added layers that allowed him to hide beneath, eradicating all personal accountabilities that endorsed humane civility amongst one another. But for her to sound so technical and blasé about it made it seem so much worse.

The accumulation of today's events, his upcoming deadlines and necessary budget plans to sustain their company, and Rukia for being Rukia, and his illogical attraction towards her, escalated, enveloping his entire being. He was growing angrier by the second. "Don't speak to me like that."

That caught her by surprise, her fingers crinkling the edges of her newspaper, but she also wouldn't back down. "And how would you like me to speak to you?"

"Like your boss." He scowled.

She matched his scowl. "Yes, sir, Mr. Kurosaki, sir. Are you satisfied, sir?"

In one clumsy stride, he stood closer to her, his nose almost touching hers.

She stepped back quickly. "Don't you dare touch me, sir, Mr. Kurosaki, sir."

That confused him and he frowned, softly asking, "What?"

"I'm not here to become one of your secretarial conquests. I know of your secretary fetish. I can respect that every one might have a reasonable fetish, whatever parameters are considered reasonable, but I'm here to work whatever is contracted for me to do so. I'm not here for a romp. So, I ask you to respect my private space."

He reeled in shock, as if her words pierced him with an invisible force. "Don't assume anything, Rukia."

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, but it was not enough to chemically balance the tension in the air between the two.

"Fine. I apologize if I assumed. And if I may, I request that you stay away from me. At least, if it's not anything related to my job or the office."

He turned around, eyes closed as anger and exhaustion wore him down. It all made sense, given his track record. After the ordeal with Senna this morning, he was called into the meeting with Urahara and other partners asking him to be more discreet with sex life and his choices in sexual partners. He was being shamed, but at the same time, he probably did have a secretary fetish as Rukia described. His sexual desires were all about location, location, and location. And there was something very enticing about secretaries.

"Acknowledged."

Before Ichigo left, Rukia poured him his usual afternoon coffee. After sipping on the scalding beverage, burning his tongue, he left. He was positive he heard Rukia snickering and calling him a dumbass under her breath.

.

.

.

Another four weeks passed as another new month with Rukia as his secretary passed. He had kept his promise to Rukia. With the exceptions of office-related things, conferences, schedules, and other events that the two had to attend together, since that was a part of her job, their relationship was that of colleagues. More specifically, he was her boss and she was his secretary, a subordinate position.

There was nothing platonic about their professional relationship. If anything, he felt their distance more than when she was hired; since then, they started to get to know each other, professionally. Of course, this was a stipulation: set boundaries between each other and you actually grow closer to each other. It was monumental. Almost an oxymoron, contextually an incorrect word, but it was appropriate in his current situation, of life.

The pieces of their chess game stalled, stagnated in their designated places. While they didn't really now each other outside of their office lives, Ichigo felt like Rukia's presence calmed him. It was crazy to him. Scenarios like this only happened in fictional narratives, but they had no place in reality.

The quiet hostility between them was apparent to the rest of their colleagues. Urahara shot down Rukia's resignation five times, even after Ichigo accepted her letter, but Shoten couldn't afford to lose one of the many contemporary Zhuge Liang's in the world. It was true, she was able to solve the many scientific and technological riddles that most of them weren't able to. Just the other day, she was the only one who was able to rewrite a program after it was nearly hacked. And then create an entirely new program that secured the company's entire network. But then again, having four degrees (in total) in the fields ranging to physics, engineering, and computer science and coalescing them brilliantly that allowed her to showcase her intellect and abilities. He still wasn't sure why she worked at Shoten. She was far more capable than being a secretary.

He walked into the bar, meeting a friend for drinks. And that's when he saw her, laughing, not those fake laughs reserved for him or other people she was forced to engage with.

Besides her laugh, a nice ring, he was surprised that she was accompanied by two men: a man with a shiny bald head and another guy with long-ass feathers as eyelashes.

Everything looked very intimate. The atmosphere. How Rukia was barely sitting on the chair as her body raised itself to remain in partial physical contact and earshot between her body and the other two, her right hand formed into fists, resting on her cheek as she smiled at what feather-eyes was telling her. Her eyes twinkled in mischief as the baldy laughed boisterously and chugged a beer down, roughly patting her back in obvious adoration.

His friend wordlessly waved him over; he nodded to him. But before he went to the bar, he saw the atmosphere between the three freaks changed. She became more intimate with feather-eyes, and in return, feather-eyes affectionately began rubbing her shoulder as if comforting her. And it was the first time Ichigo witnessed Rukia touching someone, placing her hand on baldy's knees as she sat back down; she almost always avoided contact if possible, citing germ phobia.

It was the exact moment that Kurosaki Ichigo felt jealousy. His heart was beating rapidly, the rhythms of each beat quicker than the previous as he his body felt heavy, as he felt his eyes darken with each forceful step.

Some time since Keigo left, citing a hot date, Ichigo stumbled towards the door, almost falling.

"Mr. Kurosaki?"

He wasn't sure who was addressing him, but the disembodied voice sounded a lot like Rukia.

"Who's that's Rukia-san?" came a judgmental voice.

"Yeah, orange looks like a punk. You can do so much better," came the other voice, though he sounded less judgmental than the first.

"Oh be quiet. He's my boss."

It _was_ Rukia. Or was it Riruka. Both had a varied spelling of _Rukia_ in their names before or after. Or whatever. Placement wasn't important right now, but it was important to him that Rukia might be here.

"He's your boss, Rukia-san? Why are you working for someone beneath your status? I'm sure Ikkaku and I can convince Kuch—"

"Yumi!"

"What?"

"Let's save this conversation for later."

"But Rukia-san —"

"I said later, Yumi. I need to bring my boss somewhere to safety. Oh boy. How much did you drink Mr. Kurosaki? You reek."

Ichigo was sure the disembodied voice belonged to Rukia, but her voice sounded so nice. She usually used her clipped tone filled with contempt and sometimes forced respect, but he could be mishearing and misinterpreting the sounds since he wasn't able to analytically compute her registers.

"You two okay going home without me being your designated driver?"

"Oh please, K. We drank less than you."

"Truth. Okay, we'll catch up at the same time and day next week."

"Can't wait."

"Don't drink and drive, Ikkaku."

"Che. Tell that to your genius lover slash lover, K."

She didn't even rebut his words. And even drunk Ichigo realized that was either a sign of false hope or he was just too damn drunk and listening to a fantasy with a disembodied fake Rukia voice somewhere in the recesses of his stupid brain.

He woke up around 5am, in his office, with Rukia reading the fifteenth volume of _The_ _Space_ _Adventures_ _of_ _Chappy_ , hearts literally flying out of her eyes.

"Rukia?" he croaked.

Though it pained her, that much he could tell, she closed the manga and looked at him, smiling softly. That or he was still in his happy drunk dreamscape that involved Rukia.

He blinked several times, hoping to fully wake up, and ignoring his gnawing feelings of earlier jealousy. It was such an intense feeling. He wondered which of the two weirdos she went home with. Probably feather-eyes since he was considerably a bit more good looking than his mate. Still didn't stop his raging jealousy.

He got up and sighed. "What am I doing?"

"Great manners," she droned. "A falling drunk strawberry hanging from a tree. I bring him home to nurse and the first thing he asks is something rhetorical, knowing full well that darkness, a never ending spatial vacuum that has its own language, cannot answer in a way that his small brain can compute."

He gaped at her. Rukia! She was here! "You're here," he commented, rather lamely.

She widened her eyes, making them look more alien, as if he was a stupid AI, who for no reason, gained consciousness. She opted to nod, fearing that her next words were going to be filled with harsh jokes. Maybe she should decrease their output.

He walked over to her, wanting to be in close contact. He about to ask if was invading her space, but she beat him.

"Stay away."

Ichigo stilled, shoulders slumped in defeat as his amber eyes turned dull in the vast darkness.

She pinched her nose, her voice becoming squeakier but audible."It's not that I don't want to be near you, Mr. Kurosaki. It's just that you reek of alcohol and a scent I cannot describe without filler, non-descriptive words such as vomit and gross. So, if possible, please stand at an appropriate spatial proximity that will not make me gag."

"Rukia, I'm so sorry."

Her fingers released her nose, confused, but she didn't query further, allowing him to continue as she silently promised not to interrupt him.

"I know this has nothing to do with us, being colleagues, but you're probably right, I had a thing for secretaries, not because I had a fetish for them, but they were there, and you know, location was important since the company opened. Location for me equals sex."

He chanced a look at her; her lips set in a firm line as her eyes observed him. He took it as a sign that he could continue.

"I guess I want to say that I'm a playboy or worse. I just want to say I'm sorry and it was never my intention to try to seduce you. I can't explain it, but you – you're too untouchable, keeping everyone at a distance. Even if we're a door away, you architected these inner barriers and walls so outsiders aren't able to enter. I do like you, but I'm not good enough. Feather-eyes is right. I sound lame, but words have failed these past few weeks. Again, I hope you accept my apology."

Mouth lines formed into a frown.

"Don't apologize to me."

Now it was his turn to frown. "What?"

"I'm not the one you should apologize to. I'm just your secretary, not the partners you previously used and discarded. You should apologize to all of your previous secretaries."

Another burn. Were all her acidic words truthfully painful? He guessed he deserved all of the words thrown at him. He just wished it wasn't her telling him off. While critical, there was an evident softness in her words.

"I need to go home and refresh myself before the office opens. You should too. We have less than two hours, so we should hurry," Rukia said, her tone matter of fact.

"You stayed with me all morning?"

"I guess that's likely since I took you here after 2am, and stayed with you for approximately two hours and twenty seven minutes. And before you ask why, I don't know where you live and I'm too cautious to let a stranger into my condo. And then we're working together from 8am until whenever you and Urahara-san decide to quit the day. So, yes, we'll be here together."

"Rukia —"

"Might I add that you have an appointment with Tokyo Tech, so you might want to freshen your face with aloe vera or something. That will lighten up your depressing face."

"Rukia?"

"Yes, Mr. Kurosaki?"

"It's Ichigo."

Confusion was spreading to her face again, eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Call me Ichigo."

"That's not appropriate. I'm, even if I hate the word and will remain a hypocrite after this admission, am your subordinate."

"I want you to call me Ichigo."

...

"Rukia? Permission to enter your private space?"

No answer, but he could hear her breathing hitch, but he wasn't sure if it was something to remain hopeful for or disappointed with.

"Permission denied."

.

.

.

Approximately 47 weeks after Rukia resigned, Shoten had to slowly deal with the loss since some of the bigger projects utilized her intelligence as a framework to restructure and reorganize their current and future projects. The first month was the worst since their stocks plummeted and several investors had to pull out after realizing that Rukia was K.R., the mysterious, award winning writer of Kageyoshi Press. She was fired by her own brother after publishing 'correction' pieces from Kageyoshi Press' other award-winning writer, A.S., Aizen Sōsuke, or _ASS_ , as Rukia 'affectionately' called him. Her termination was the consequence of her allowing Espada News, Kageyoshi's rival, for publishing her pieces.

She had no regrets. ASS' pieces were nothing but slander where he abused his power, regaling on how he could crush a person with his column. The scenarios were uncannily similar to the film, _Sweet_ _Smell_ _of_ _Success_. Parties fighting to see whose words reigned supreme, but for Rukia, she wanted to expose the ass' megalomaniac misappropriation of funds, unethical favors, and abuse of power.

She applied for the secrecy position at Shoten because her funds were slowly decreasing since Byakuya was forbidden to support her financially since becoming a national and Kuchiki disgrace, and ASS' abuse of power proved that he had influential power, or at least, compromising information about each CEO, over all global presses, print and digital, making it difficult to maintain her writing career.

It never stopped her from surviving. Being Ichigo's secretary was just a temp job, she also become a part-time free lance editor and writer. It was no wonder Ichigo had asked her to write all of their reports, press notes, and presentations. Though words in the digital world could become more technical, she was still concise and adapted for her audience. She was doing very well for herself, even if it was slowly.

Perhaps leaving Ichigo's side was the most difficult. She didn't want to be another secretary and decided to resign her post before things got complicated. Maintaining spatial boundaries was difficult because those layers were bleeding into each other. Hypocrisy was something she didn't want to become known for.

Things simply happened. Decisions changed frequently, changing the outcomes.

She sipped her espresso as she read a gossip magazine. Some habits never changed. Mimesis became reality.

"Kuchiki-san?"

"Yes?"

"Kurosaki-kun is here."

She blinked. "Already?"

"Um, yes?"

"Okay, tell him to meet me at the lobby."

"He's just outside Madarame-kun's office, talking to him."

Rukia rolled her eyes. "Thanks, I'll be there."

Grabbing her small tote bag, keys, and phone, quickly texting Ukitake-sensei that she was going to be out for several hours and will return to Shiro-Shiro Press, Rukia slowly gathered herself and walked out of her office.

She knew what they were talking about. Her. As she walked towards Ikkaku's office, he laughed, the obnoxious sound resonated throughout the halls.

"Why are you here?"

The arm that was leaning on the door frame dropped as he turned to face her. That infuriating smirk appearing as he responded, "I thought I would ask you out to lunch."

"Is that a command? Or are you asking me?"

Ikkaku laughed harder, his bald head becoming an interesting shade of scarlet. Aside from red scalps, Rukia never witnessed such a brilliant red head. Yachiru's pink hair couldn't even rival with the shiny redness that was Ikkaku's burning lightbulb.

Ichigo glared at them both. "Okay. Let's try this again. Rukia, would you like to have lunch with me?"

She shrugged and walked away, smiling, which he couldn't see.

"See ya, Ikkaku."

"See ya. Remember beers Friday evening."

Ichigo nodded as he jogged, catching up to Rukia, now walking beside her.

"Found a new secretary yet, Ichigo?"

He sighed, and she almost felt bad. "No, but my iPad and Alexa seem to be doing a good job. I guess that's the direction now. Multiple adaptive AIs."

"Sure. Pretty soon one's going to run your company and you'll be consider redundant. If anything, that might be a good thing. Unless you're into AIs too, which is absolutely cool in my book, but don't say I didn't warn you when we watched _Her_."

Ichigo wasn't paying attention to anything really. He was looking at her, smiling softly.

"Permission to kiss girlfriend?"

An endearing smile appeared, something that he always wanted to witness as he matured with her.

"Permission granted."

* * *

 **End notes:**

 **A plotless, nearing pointless piece, that I found in one of my many folders that I decided to share.**


	2. Chapter 2

Years of perfecting the constant stillness that was the Kuchiki poker face had some advantageous perks; one being that she was able to still her face in a constant state despite the erratic rhythms of her heartbeat. Sitting in Nii-sama's very pristine office felt oppressive to her; the man in front of her sometimes equally oppressed her. It was a cyclical behavior that she once internalized, but she's been flirting with the idea of a mutiny.

Case in point: chewing gum, albeit, inconspicuously, while Nii-sama was present. Baby steps were essential for survival and eventual rebellion, something she should've acted on when she was a teenager.

Shame. Shame. A lot of shame and regrets.

"Rukia," her brother droned, masking a sigh because Kuchikis never gasped audibly.

She stilled the gum, using her tongue to move it to the right side of her cheek to hide the offending pink substance. It was likely going to be the most polite thing she could do at this moment. The high of what she did in the past month was still in her system, but the repercussions were large, costly even. That decision was heavy, burdened by her non-future.

"You're fired."

And yet she felt nothing but a calm lull, as if the weight of her guilt, for deciding to publish her correction pieces against _ASS_ with _Espada News_ , never existed. Maybe she never felt the guilt that was weighing on others when she decided to publish them.

So be it.

"I understand, Nii-sama. Thank you for the opportunity at Kageyoshi Press. If anything, I learned that words have the power to empower and oppress." She stilled her head; she wasn't going to bow down this time; her gratitude was a thinly veiled criticism. There was an art to forced politeness. Under all that formalities were a disgruntled writer who wanted nothing more than to leave and not use words to obliterate people's future. And that her own brother, someone she always respected, perpetuated that very system without considering others' standpoints and livelihoods.

And the result made her bite the inside of her left cheek, seeing her brother widen his eyes like that.

Her brother hummed(?). Kuchiki Byakuya never hummed; she was in for a lecture now. "I see you learned nothing from your mistakes, Rukia. What you did was unethical and went against Kageyoshi Press' code of conduct – "

She didn't want to sit here and listen to her brother mansplain anything to her anymore, especially after being in this field for nearly three years. She wasn't quite an expert in the field since her degrees were drastically different than the dying field of journalism and print culture, but integrity remained – or should have remained intact and without being compromised. "If I may respectfully – no, I'm going to interrupt you _dear brother_. All this talk about a journalist's code of conduct, is quite, frankly – perhaps even _delicately_ speaking, bulllshit. What about Sōsuke's writing? He may be an award-winning writer here, but what about his blatant slander pieces? His pieces were character assassinations, which most of his recipients didn't deserve, and I have evidence that he's abusing his power and exploiting anyone he has compromising information on. So, please, _dear brother_ , spare me the talk about your press' code of conduct when you can't acknowledge that your most famous writer is comparable to that of a gossip writer, defaming everyone at every given opportunity, and Kageyoshi gave him the platform to do so. Nothing about his pieces include or frame journalistic integrity. Had he been in my position, you and the entire publishing board would have complimented him on boldly taking this risk _incessantly_."

Byakuya's face never changed and remained unmoved – physically and emotionally so – implying that her controlled soliloquy, as thoughtfully worded as it was, was left unheard.

"I'm not saying what you wrote is wrong, Rukia, but when you decided to publish with our rival, you knew you were going to be placed in this situation."

Maintaining their prolonged eye contact, Rukia shook her head and smiled, almost stretching her face in tired resignation. "And would you have published those pieces, Nii-sama?"

He didn't answer.

She stood up, full of self-assurance, confidence, and self-respect. Even if she was fired from her own brother, she was going to maintain that Kuchiki composure and dignity. That was the least she could do in front of him because he was basically disowning her in the professional world.

"I see. Well, I hope I get to see you around Nii-sama. Tell Hisana-nee I'll contact her later. If that's allowed." Rukia gave her brother that look, eyes filled with disappointment about his need to culturally and societally maintain her into the ideal Kuchiki lady.

"I'm sorry, Rukia. I wish you would have come to me before deciding this on your own. We could have worked something out. Your own immaturity cost you your career here and our family's name. You caused a lot of damage; not to mention, you never apologized to our family. The elders said you shamed them."

She had a lot to say but decided that silence would be best for now. She walked towards the door, exiting from the rigid confinements of Kageyoshi Press. The coffee, if anything, was probably the only thing she would miss. That and maybe her friends, but she could always see them. The coffee blend here was amazing and no one knew which coffee beans they were. Oh, that smell would be sorely missed. She walked out and couldn't wait to freely chew on her bubble gum. If this was the walk of shame, she might as well blow bubbles as a celebratory act of getting fired.

"And Rukia?"

She turned around out of respect. "Yes, Nii-sama?"

"It's unbecoming to keep gum inside your mouth while speaking to your boss."

Sometimes immaturity could lead to great, memorable results. Because after she heard her brother's oak antique door close, separating them, she walked over to ASS' door and placed her 30-minutes thoroughly chewed gum on his door handle.

She giggled. No one told her Kuchikis couldn't be immature once in a while.

.

.

.

Yumichika almost spat his wine out. "He whaattt?" He could be exaggeratively dramatic at times.

Rukia was carefully using her fork to pick at her tuna tartare with sweet sunroot potato – some things were too pretty to destroy; good lord, she's been watching too many anime horror series these days.

She took a delicate bite of the tartare, savoring the melodic pairing of soy and the acidity. "You heard me, Yumi. My brother fired me. I'm pretty sure the entire Kuchiki family disowned me because I am, quote a disgrace to the Kuchiki family, unquote. Oh, this is delicious, here, try some. You too, Ikkaku."

Both Yumi and Ikkaku gave her a look of horror and glanced at each other, both inwardly thinking that Rukia's firing might have triggered an early case of delirium.

Rubbing his smooth, bald head, Ikkaku broke the silence. "Um, K. Is something wrong with you?"

Rukia swallowed, wanting to demolish the entire plate if her two friends didn't want to. "What? Sharing is caring. At least I thought sharing is caring. Or is caring creepy now?" She smirked.

"You just got fired, Rukia-san," Yumichika began, a bit slowly so that maybe she can process the information again.

"Yes?"

"You got fired."

"Yes, I've heard that _multiple_ times today."

"And your brother, who has a perpetual stick in his ass, financially cut you off."

Okay, if they weren't eating, she was just going to finish the plate. Their loss. "Yes, and Hisana-nee called me to inform me that she would secretly transfer some funds over to me, but I declined. She shouldn't be placed in such a precarious position in our family for someone like me."

 _Someone like me_. Of course, she was always and will remain the outsider of the family. Even if she was born with Kuchiki blood flowing into her arteries, trekking right towards her brain, she couldn't measure up to anyone else. Even though she knew she was more than intellectually capable, but outdated people will remain outmoded. And even if she had good intentions, her words fell deaf in their ears. The day she stopped catering to her family's every whim was the day she realized that autonomy and personhood were more important, allowing her to grow as someone who was an equal.

Or a rival.

Rukia giggled and finished the tartare.

Yumichika's and Ikkaku's eyes remained locked on her, both thinking whether their good friend finally lost it. Why was she giggling and eating? Was the tuna spoiled? Did it poison her brain?

Yumichika cleared his throat. "Rukia-san," he attempted again.

She placed her fork down. "Please, Yumi. I've made my decision. They fired me. I'm not crawling back for my job, especially if ASS is there. I don't regret my pieces." She smiled at him, observing his colorful feathers. "Hey! I thought you said those pieces were well written!" She glared at him and then her eyes focused on Ikkaku. "And you," she pointed at Ikkaku, "read them for content. Unless you lied to me, you said you liked how I wove the facts and narrative together."

Ikkaku raised his hands in mock surrender and laughed out loud. "And you must be very proud of me. Since my reading over them contributed to your firing. Or demise, whichever word you prefer."

She shrugged, but chuckled, all anger resolved quickly; she wasn't even angry at anyone. "Yumi, it's fine. I can find some work. I still have quite a bit of money, so I can temporarily live off of them while I find a new job."

"Rukia-san, we can help. We've been friends since undergrad; you've helped us get jobs at your brother's, let us help. Or Ikkaku and I will quit out of solidarity."

Ikkaku nearly choked this time. "Yumichika! Let's not act rashly. You and I still have rent to pay."

She shook her head. "I know, and I kindly thank you, especially for your friendship." She plainly stared at Ikkaku who wouldn't meet her eyes, but she laughed; everyone needs financial security. "But no one is going to hire the disgraced Kuchiki Rukia. I know the Kuchikis will be doing some damage control, but this war of words has been exhausting for the past few months. ASS didn't leave unscathed either. I'll see what happens once time passes."

Ikkaku mumbled something about Rukia not leaving them any tartare and then responded, "You know that egomaniac will make it harder for you to find a job in any publication houses or presses."

She shrugged and tapped her chin. "Yes, but I also have degrees that might be beneficial in other fields. ASS might be influential, but let it be known that he can't control every single moving minute of my life. He's too overconfident to think about someone who's been fired. If anything, I'm just an ant that has been stepped on, immobile with no prospects." Maybe that imagery was a bit too much since her two good friends' faces froze out of shock. "Let me amend that: according to that ASS. Anyway, this conversation is bumming me out. And don't do anything that could put yourselves in jeopardy. Hanging out with me is already jeopardizing your careers at Kageyoshi."

The trio segued the conversation to something lighter, at times erupting into boisterous laughter that might make Byakuya disown Rukia a second time; and with them revealing that their former mentor was planning to open his own publication house. The laughing stopped once Rukia innocently asked Yumichika and Ikkaku about who was paying for the meal since she was now jobless.

Both their wallets felt lighter since Kuchiki Rukia, as small as she was, could out eat them in a contest.

.

.

.

Scratching her chin as she played with the handle of her coffee cup, Rukia scrutinized the numbers on her iMac screen, mentally calculating how long she could survive without a long-term or even temporary job. Sure she provided freelance content and editing services for some editors, but they immediately terminated her once they realized she was the writer that Byakuya fired; that and ASS, of course, made it nearly impossible for her to find a new job at anything that was related to the printing world and it's all encompassing culture. Who said print was dead? It was pervasive online; even the online ones were too frightened about Aizen's power to hire her. He was able to crush them somehow with his pinky.

So, okay, she might have predicted this trajectory, but perhaps she might have underestimated his influence. Did that man have compromising information on everyone?

Oh! That might be a new piece to write about. She may have been taken down by that ASS, but she wouldn't be a Kuchiki if she didn't try to drag him to hell with her. Everyone needed a friend in hell. Or an enemy.

She giggled but stopped when she realized that she might survive for another two months. Time passed by quickly; that two-month mark would start tomorrow if she didn't attempt to procure some sort of job.

Desperation was the final result; she ran a search online. A security one of course.

.

.

.

Rukia thought she was always the early one, but after walking into the glass entrance doors of Shoten, the new yet favorably reviewed startup tech in Karakura, she surmised that people must really want to be Kurosaki Ichigo's secretary. Almost all of the interviewees and hopeful candidates were women.

Some that looked like they were a part of the catwalk.

She shrugged, not caring about how she might be the most petite of the group. She had other interviews later in the week. If this Kurosaki Ichigo, one of the many partners and founders of this startup, had a preference and she didn't meet his criteria – she might be qualified a bit more if anything – then he could go to hell for all she cared. Okay, maybe not. She already decided that Aizen would be dragged to her hell with her; she didn't think she had enough energy and spirit to deal with another egoistical man in hell.

Rukia sat down on one of the unaccompanied chairs – it was soft and so, so comfortable! – and took out the newly released volume of _The Space Adventures of Chappy_ manga out of her Louis Vuitton briefcase and started reading; hearts appearing immediately in both eyes as she repeatedly read over the panels and literary language that was Chappy, allowing herself to drown out all of the passive aggressive exchanges and demonic glares the candidate hopefuls had for each other.

She wasn't going to be a part of any frivolous gossip. Being a recipient of political slander was enough for her to ignore these women being petty.

What she was going to be a part of was with Chappy as she laughed and laughed while the other people in the building stared at her as if she was a lunatic that was accidentally released from wherever she was placed.

Her total concentration remained on the manga until a woman's voice called her. "Um, K. Rukia?"

She looked up, her total concentration dissipating. As she walked, she could see the other candidates smirking at each other and shaking their head.

"As if she's going to get hired. She's not even the type he wants." A lot of snickering could be heard after that rude ass comment.

 _What's the secretarial type? I'm pretty sure I dress like one already._

As she walked, she bent down to the woman who made that comment. Rukia gave her a pleasant smile, eyes gleaming with mischief yet with purpose. "Excuse me, miss; I'm guessing it's miss, but please correct me if I'm wrong. Common courtesy dictates that you gossip behind someone's back when they're gone. If I can hear you, it means that you're either inexperienced with gossiping and can't time well, or perhaps you don't know what time management is and how it works, or you just – excuse me for this coarse language – simply suck at shit talking. Do you want to have coffee afterwards so we can practice this shit talking together? This could be the beginning of a great friendship."

A pin drop could be heard at this exact moment since all the chattering stopped at this part of the building. Rukia's smile remained on her face, unchanging and unwavering as the woman's face turned bright red. In her peripheral vision, she could see a man, whose head was adorned with a green and white bucket hat, covering his shaggy blonde hair, looking at her with mirth in his eyes as his shoulders were shaking from suppressed laughter, as if he approved of her. She didn't need any validation or approval these days, but it was nice when her humor was appreciated.

The woman mumbled something.

"I'm sorry?" Her smile was still intact.

Before the woman could force an apology out of her mouth, Rukia followed the other employee into Kurosaki's office.

.

.

.

Rukia sat down, silently observing Kurosaki's office. If she had to compare it to her brother's bland office, this one was perhaps equally bland, but the intended minimalistic décor made this unassuming, though she's been in several offices that created a similar hipster vibe. It was nothing new. This man was nothing new.

At least to her.

But she knew he was quite inquisitive; she was pretty sure he saw what happened out there since his office – this entire architectural structure actually – was all windows, allowing the sunlight to bathe into the white walls. That and he raised an eyebrow when he witnessed her reluctantly putting _The Space Adventures of Chappy_ back into her briefcase. It was a bit too sanitized in here, but it was good enough for her. She didn't need any germs; maybe some photosynthesis would be nice.

Kurosaki Ichigo would be considered good looking, objectively anyway. Tall, lean, maybe toned in muscle judging by his tight clothing, great fashion sense by the way, unruly orange hair – she snickered out loud when she figured his hair was au nautrel, which, in hindsight, might have made her lost some impression points, but sometimes a person couldn't control their laughter.

But she knew Kurosaki Ichigo didn't want to be a part of the hiring process; that much she knew. If he was more organized and prepared, he would not have asked her some of these mundane questions; he was not one to break the ice for the sake of small talk or obligatory conversations.

He mumbled a K. Rukia, almost questioningly as he regarded her with suspicious eyes. She had to fight an eyeroll.

"What's your surname?" he asked.

She wanted to respond with, "It's written there, sir; or could you not read" but opted for something a bit less rude.

Her brother often chided her for her obscure references, but references were made to bridge commonalities between people.

"The name is K. K. Rukia," she responded without missing a beat as she used her best baritone register. It wasn't often a good Bond reference came up, might as well seize the opportunity.

Great ice breakers, by the way.

Never once did she break eye contact with Kurosaki, and he reciprocated with a glare and a frown. He sure looked strange; was he deranged or was he really a part of this brilliant tech group?

She started giggling again. She didn't know why; perhaps it was his face; all she knew was that Byakuya would be severely disappointed in her lack of controlling her emotions. Emotions are useless and for the weak was the Kuchiki mantra.

 _So, this is what it feels like to be free from familial traditions and requirements._

"So, your family's name is K.?" Ichigo asked, interrupting her thoughts as she ceased her giggling to a minimum.

 _He probably thinks it's an alias._

She needed to breathe for a bit. Freedom meant breathing. She shrugged, not caring what he thought – or anyone, really, thought – about her. "I choose to deviate my surname however I want to. Right now, I decided to shorten my family name to a simple K., just like several authors do in their books." She should have just stopped there, but didn't and went on, "Anonymity these days are very important. The less letters you give out, the safer you might be, of course, that could be moot since people are peeping toms on and offline." She decided to raise her eyebrow to challenge him; to others here, he might be the authority figure, the boss, but to her, he was just an equal that could be challenged; challenging her meant that she could reciprocate the challenge. It was no longer a one-way system. "Do you have a problem with how I would like to be identified?"

If this was online, of course he wouldn't. But for some reason, people in Karakura didn't know who she was; it wasn't as if she was the most important or notable Kuchiki, and it felt quite nice to not be known and hindered by a family name. Living without the restrictions of a name burdened by choices was also quite nice; a great feeling.

Kurosaki shrugged his shoulders and Rukia knew he was at his limit; the need to know every single detail about a person could be seen in his body language and eyes. He most likely assumed she was a weird person.

Weird, yes, she owned her weirdness, which her family voiced their disapprovals, but how was weirdness measured anyway? Everyone was strange in their own ways.

And it was even stranger to her that they chose to defend and fight for ASS' reputation for well, being an ass.

Hypocrisy runs deep in the Kuchiki family.

"I don't have any authority or power over you right this second." He paused for that dramatic yet thoughtful effect; and again, Rukia attempted to fight that eyeroll. "But at the same time, I may be your potential boss, so if you want me to hire you, then you need to answer my questions honestly."

Maybe she shouldn't work here if he was that controlling. She always suppressed her anger, healthily unleashing it every few intervals in which she allotted, but Kurosaki was a bit grating to her. She just got out of a bad working environment, which was her doing and choice, and she wasn't sure if she could be complacent in this place though she would fit in quite well; all on the basis of her undergrad and grad experiences.

Or maybe she just wasn't the secretarial prototype he was looking for. She was the outlier of the group outside.

Realization hit her.

 _Oh. I see. He's looking for a type; a submissive secretary or one that he knows won't annoyingly challenge him. Putz._

She stared at him, scrutinizing him until he seemed rather uncomfortable as he looked away and out of his office, staring at the other, many, secretarial hopefuls.

She nodded as he turned his face back to her. "Okay." And she stood up, attempting not to smirk at him.

"Eh?" was what she was gifted with. His language of communication was evident.

"This is where I bid you farewell, Mr. Kurosaki."

"Huh?"

"Farewell."

"Wait? What?" This time she did let her eyeballs go upward; he was tiresome to deal with. "I beg your pardon, er, Miss K.?"

Holding back a sigh she responded, "I see you need more words to compute in that rather minuscule brain of yours, Mr. Kurosaki." Really, she should have read over his profile on the site. She thought Urahara Kisuke was the one who was hiring for secretaries. Not that paradoxically intelligent yet halfwit. "I answered your question, didn't I?"

Confusion remained etched on his face. "You did?"

This time she really did sigh. She repeated her exact answer and question with the same tone and inflection as minutes prior to this moment. The face he made after her repeated speech was worth it.

"Fine. You may go. And might I add, you just lost all of your chances of being in this field."

Good god. He even sounded like Byakuya. That's a disincentive. The only difference was that her brother was absolutely more refined than this Doritos giant. A bag of Doritos actually sounds good; excellent choice of chips to snack on when you know you didn't get hired. Who needs sex when you have a bag of crunchy, cheesy chips?

But she wasn't going to let Doritos get the last word. "I was about to, but you seem to be the type to exert their authority so you can have the lost word. And to be presumptuous about my future in 'this field' is none of your concern, you orange mop." She was going to save the Doritos reference for someone more deserving. He was unoriginal and deserved an unoriginally cliched reference. "Farewell, Kurosaki Ichigo. Long, live, and prosper." For added effect and exit impact, she performed the Vulcan salute; it seemed appropriate.

He must have expected her to slam the door, but she couldn't take it out on the door. If anything, her delicate handling of the door was what confused him.

When she turned around, she saw that the woman who was shit talking her sitting in a different location, forcing her eyes to look at her phone. The man with the bucket hat also looked at her strangely, she saluted him as well; as thanks for laughing with her earlier. He seemed likeable enough; shady but likeable. Too bad he wasn't the one hiring.

She walked quietly, as if her heels barely touched the sleek looking marble tiles. It was time to go and prepare for the second interview. And she needed to make sure to read every CEO's profile.

.

.

.

She placed Yumi was on speaker as she was reading her newsfeed.

"Yes, I didn't get the job," she responded casually, scrolling her iPad.

"Not because you couldn't, but you refused to submit, Rukia-san." He laughed. "Why am I not surprised? But I must say, you probably made a first impression."

"I guess. It wasn't favorable, though."

"Like you care."

"No, not anymore."

Rukia had to end their conversation, promising Yumichika that she would call him back, because she had an incoming call from an unidentified number. Usually she would ignore the unknown number, but she was interviewed by several places in the last two days and she expected that perhaps someone was interested in experiences enough to call her back.

At least she could hope.

"Hello?" She had to stop herself from including "This is Rukia."

The caller cleared their throat, and it sounded very familiar.

"Hello?" Silence again.

Rukia could feel her elation dropping because she recognized that voice; it belonged to Kurosaki Ichigo.

"Yes, hello?" she answered, her voice significantly dulled down, turning it into a blatantly unimpressed, disinterested tone. Was he calling to argue with her or something?

He cleared his throat. "Is this K. Rukia?"

She wanted this conversation to be over already. "Oh, hello, Mr. Kurosaki. If you didn't remember a second ago, I did follow my greeting with my name as an identifier." She looked at her fingernails; they were getting to the point where she needed to trim them. She wasn't particularly fond of long nails.

Ichigo sighed over the phone. "Miss K.? After reviewing your application and CV, I am – er – Shoten is impressed with your experiences and education, and we would like to offer you the job as my personal secretary."

Rukia paused, took her phone away from her ear and stared at the device, as if she could see the caller who was elsewhere and most likely calling at a distance in his office.

She brought her phone back to ear. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kurosaki," she droned, "As I recall, you weren't exactly impressed with me. Might I remind you, you unprofessionally informed me that I wouldn't have a future in, quote, this field, unquote. More specifically, your field, which you have no ownership of really. It's a broad field, Mr. Kurosaki."

She wanted to cackle darkly when she heard Kurosaki muttering what could be heard as expletives. He really was unprofessionally; not even trying to mask it.

"Full disclosure, Miss K: you were at the bottom list; actually, you weren't even on my bottom list. I didn't want to hire you, but almost everyone at Shoten thinks you're more than qualified to handle the job."

"Hm," Rukia hummed, not caring that he was being quite rude. "How rudely unprofessionally and crass of you." She might not have cared, but she should be free to critique his thoughtlessness. Wasn't he the one essentially begging her? His other partners might have pressured him to hire her. To be fair, though, she did leave out some of her other jobs, only leaving the more _appropriate_ experiences and publications that were more aligned with Shoten's.

He cleared his throat again. Words must be perpetually drowning in that throat of his, mounting since he wasn't that eloquent. "So, what do you say?"

She actually didn't want the job, but she had no other leads. And Kurosaki was too dense to know or even investigate who she is – or was – so why not?

Maybe because she didn't answer immediately, and panic materialized in Ichigo's gut. Shoten really wanted to hire this K. Rukia person. And she was kind of cute, so maybe it wasn't a bad decision. Shoten would most likely be disappointed in him if he couldn't get her hired; her expertise might be beneficial too. Pretty and beneficial; it was a win-win for everyone involved. He started sputtering nonsense, sometimes digressing into something arbitrary, sometimes flattering her.

Rukia placed her phone down, not wanting to hear whatever non-linear nonsense or her soon to be employer was mumbling about, and she certainly didn't need him flattering her with careless words; so, she decided to get a bottle of wine ready to celebrate.

"Hello?!"

She picked her phone back up, raising it to her ear. "Hello, Mr. Kurosaki. I didn't understand the last part."

"Shoten would benefit from your expertise; you did graduate from several top universities in Japan and in the States." He started blabbering again, as if he was flirting.

He had better not be flirting with her. She might as well end his misery. "Yes, I accept and thank you for the opportunity. I just can't _wait_ to be a part of Shoten's team, working _with_ you."

He stopped talking and Rukia was about to open the wine bottle. Drinking alone in celebration was always fun.

"Sorry, what?"

Rukia shook her head, trying hard not to laugh at Kurosaki's sheer stupidity. "I accept."

"Great!" She heard him sighing, and then he mumbled something.

For the next fifteen minutes, Kurosaki Ichigo and Rukia talked about her job duties, as if this was a phone interview.

He talked and she listened; she talked and he listened.

.

.

.

She could feel his eyes on her. Even if her desk was outside of his office, the hairs on her back told her Kurosaki kept tabs on her, probably wondering if she was working or not.

 _That creeper._

Working as a secretary was different; it wasn't bad, but the vibe was different than working as one of the many writers at Kageyoshi Press. Though she had to wait for some leads and calls, she always worked against time there; here, at Shoten, she seemed to be waiting for time to pass; for the day to end because she would always complete her tasks before the end of the day, sometimes two or three hours sooner. Like a writer, she remained in a waiting limbo, waiting for Kurosaki's _orders_ as his secretary.

Speaking of him, she felt as if he was attempting to flirt with her; unless her ego has been inflated since working here, but his casual compliments and the occasional _accidental_ touches that might have caused both a friction and unwanted reactions from her were some of the many indicators.

But what did she know about flirtation? Kuchiki Rukia only had one boyfriend during graduate school and that was Kano Ashido; a seven-year relationship that ran its course; nothing dramatic happened; both grew apart and wanted to live in different geographical locations.

And she hasn't thought about relationships in a very long time; a very, very long time. Taking down Aizen consumed too much time, but those were times well spent.

And she knew she wasn't going to start a relationship with anyone in Shoten. Dating a colleague would be awkward and she wouldn't know how to separate the professional and the private.

She could hear his phone ringing and she turned towards his office, chair swiveling in a half circle to see what he wanted.

Staring at Kurosaki's office, she could tell he was in a rather pleasant conversation with the other person. That devilish smirk that sometimes annoyed her reemerged; which was something he offered to mostly women.

Something clicked inside her brain.

[Two Weeks After Being Hired]

 _Rukia wore oversized sunglasses to avoid being spotted meeting with Hisana earlier. Though she was her sister-in-law, both treated each other like biological sisters. But since this drama between her and the entire Kuchiki clan, Rukia didn't want to place Hisana at the middle where she had to choose one over the other. That wasn't fair; she shouldn't be placed in that situation._

 _After rejecting Hisana's money for the umpteenth time, the two parted, with Hisana tearing up and with Rukia having to console. She didn't want to take Hisana's money because there was always that risk and she didn't want to be the reason for ruining years of her marital bliss. As much as her brother was also an ass, they both came from the same family. Unfortunately._

 _It was already 9 at night and the sunglasses was getting a bit too ridiculous; she was sure it was safe to take them off. No one in the Kuchiki family would be caught seen in this proximity; where people scheduled rendezvous at love hotels. While the district was quite commercialized and rather high end in buildings, being near love hotels would soil the Kuchiki name._

 _It was kind of fun being a Kuchiki and being caught at this district, actually._

 _"Awwww! Stop it Ichigo!"_

 _Ichigo? As in Kurosaki Ichigo?_

 _"I told you it's not some cheap love hotel. It's quite high end."_

 _Rukia heard Kurosaki laugh and turned around to see him kissing a tall woman with long green pale hair._

 _Rukia was pretty sure Kurosaki was dating a woman with blonde hair. Rukia thought for a bit, attempting to dig into her memories; the green pale hair reminded her of one of the many files she happened to look over when she was electronically updating Shoten's files. Wasn't she Kurosaki's former secretary?_

 _She could hear Kurosaki say, "Nel."_

 _Right! Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck; didn't she replace Senna, who replaced Inoue Orihime, who replaced –_

 _"Rukia?!"_

 _She was standing right in front of two colorful hairs. She had to fight off a snicker; they matched quite well in height, though clashed in colors; almost terribly so._

 _"Good evening, Mr. Kurosaki," she breezily greeted him. He even had the audacity to look like a pucker fish, as if he was caught doing something he shouldn't be doing. Or for doing someone._

 _"What are you doing here?!"_

 _Rukia observed how Nel possessively held onto Ichigo as they conversed._

 _"I was meeting someone here hours ago and just walked through here." It wasn't a big deal, but she could tell it was a big deal to Kurosaki._

 _"With who? Who did you meet?"_

 _Jeez. Shouldn't he be tired by now? Why care about who she was meeting?_

 _"Ichigo, who is this little girl? Is this a friend of your sisters'?"_

 _Judging by how Kurosaki laughed, she guessed that his sisters were young and short. She didn't want to entertain anymore height jokes; once in a while was okay, but she didn't want two titan giants to make fun of her height. Couldn't they be more original?_

 _"Rukia?! Who were with?"_

 _"Ichigo –"_

 _She just wanted to go home and sleep. "It's after hours, Mr. Kurosaki. Might I remind you that what I do after business hours is none of your business." Before he interrupted her, she continued, "And what you do and with who is none of my business."_

 _Both Ichigo and Nel blushed; the latter tightening her hold on his arm._

 _After saying her farewells, she left the couple, ignoring Ichigo's calls._

 _It wasn't awkward, but Kurosaki made it awkward as he continuously demanded who she was meeting at that district at work the next day. She kept mum until her cool façade nearly erupted from annoyance and told him that she had a date with a cute bunny named Chappy, who promised to fly her to space._

 _That shut him up because he gave her a look that could only be described as a derp face. And she had to excuse herself to go laugh her ass off in the restroom. No one needed to see her red face and dying of a lack of oxygen._

 _Oh, I see. So, the rumors are true. He is a playboy. I don't know why I didn't deduce that earlier. I guess I have an excuse to stab his hand with a pen if he attempts to touch me again. No need to touch anyone else if he's in multiple relationships. Jeez. What a selfish Dorito._

She crossed her legs and began tapping her loafers on the floor as soon as Dorito opened his office door.

"Rukia?" She didn't know when he started addressing her informally. She would like to be called K. and pretend she was the bosses of all Bonds.

She giggled. "Hm?"

"Why aren't you working?" Flirting, or failing to because she was not going to be one of the many secretarial conquests, with her and now attempting to police her work without knowing what she was doing; there were times where she thought he might just want to talk to her; that or he was a masochist and wanted her to verbally challenge him in her own _polite_ way.

She smiled and inflected a friendly voice reserved only for his ears. "What makes you think I didn't work, Mr. Kurosaki?"

"Exhibit A: you're sitting around, clocking in hours, doing nothing. Exhibit B: you've completed nothing since 11am. Need I say more?"

He made things too easy for her. That or he must really like the sound of his voice; or talking to her. "So, the great genius of this startup company also creeps on his colleagues?"

"Employee."

Her ears must have failed her; she smirked. "I'm sorry?"

"You're my employee," was his rough reply.

So much for being treated as equals here. "So, the company's oh so different mission statement about 'not employees, but comrades' was nothing but mere false advertising? Good to know." She wanted to laugh; his smirk immediately transformed into a nasty frown as if he knew he was losing this battle. But she did recognize that he wanted to always maintain that power and control over everything; control to care. She wanted to shudder; that could be scary. It's fine to care, but even that was overwhelmingly suffocating.

"Just answer the goddamn question, Rukia."

 _Good god. This man just won't quit. He wants an answer; I'll give him a crafted, verbose answer._

"To answer one of your many growing questions that I've mentally listed, the answer is, yes, I have completed all tasks assigned since I walked into the office and clocked in." She looked at her iMac, checking the time. "Since 9:52am, I've responded, forwarded, and composed original emails that you asked me to. I've also read over all reports from all departments and created an iCalendar for this month's and next month's projected deadlines and other incoming projects that may be rife with sci-fi metaphors. As of now, the time being 11:45am, I am waiting for possible responses."

It took him a while to compute, so she settled in staring at her fingernails; they were getting long again. Why do they get long so quickly? Awkward as it may be, Rukia took a chance and stared at her _boss'_ fingernails, noticing that while his fingernails were trimmed down to a reasonable length, his hands were decorated with scars; it might be assuming, but she's pretty positive his hands might be filled with callus. Lotion might be a good Christmas gift for him this year.

"So, you're telling me, in less than two hours, you completed all designated tasks?"

The pen nearly dropped from her fingers. This man certainly loved rhetorical questions. "I am."

If only she could pull her phone out and take a picture of his current face and draw handlebar mustaches on it. Or his face might be a good foundation for a great dart game with Ikkaku.

"What the hell!?"

She smiled, feeling that stretch of superiority on her face. "What can I say? I type 90 words per minute. Did you not read my CV?"

Before she was able to stop herself, she continued, "Oh, or did you hire me for my looks?" She didn't know why she said that; words can't be taken back. Oh jeez.

"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer."

Thank goodness he chose to ignore the context of that question. That or he was an obtuse person and didn't have the ability to comprehend.

She was safe, but quite embarrassed with her slip; she might have thought he was attractive, but she wasn't going to be relegated as the many. "I was about to call you a cliché since in several schematic cinematic tropes, big bad bosses often like to bed their secretaries."

"Whatever. Start acting like a secretary and stop your yakking."

 _Wait, what? She didn't understand what acting like a secretary meant. She dressed the part and did everything else. Did she also have to perform her job in an overly exaggerative, performative manner? This man and his fetish._

"So, instead of being expected to perform my gender, an outdated expectation that was non-scientifically and biologically ingrained and socially constructed to people, I'm expected to perform to fit in within the physical parameters of my employed position? One that might be socially rooted unfairly upon my gender?"

"Whatever. Yeah, do as I say."

He was going to regret his answer tomorrow.

She smiled, eyes closed in a raging yet friendly manner. "Duly noted."

.

.

.

Researching in the form of watching movies was fun. She forgot how much she enjoyed the cheesy cartoon iteration of _Ghostbusters_ ; was Janine Melnitz the archetype for great secretaries. But the film _Secretary_ – a generic title – with Maggie Gyllenhaal and James Spader was different and intense. Was this the reason why Kurosaki had a fetish with secretaries? The sexual tension and the violent role play?

Clicking her tongue, she felt a bit mortified and disturbed after the credits started appearing onscreen. Nope. She wasn't going model herself after that; though the movie was fine. But she wasn't going to submit.

Now to look at some fashion magazines for some inspiration. She did budget for new clothes.

.

.

.

She always came into the office an hour earlier than everyone else to _set_ the building up. Well, all the secretaries were supposed to come in an hour early and make notes of messages and such.

"Those red Prada glasses look great on you, K.," Lisa complimented. She always wondered how Rukia was able to afford such clothes; that or she took her secretary position a little too seriously than everyone else.

She brightened up. "Thank you, Yadōmaru-san. Though black frames are forever timeless, I thought going for a bolder color wouldn't be so bad."

"Red looks great on you. Going for a new look?"

Shaking her head with a smile. "Not new; just wanted to look like the archetypal secretary we're all familiar with."

"Huh?"

Unwrapping a piece of gum, she handed one to Lisa. "Would you like some gum? Pink gum gives a great aesthetic vibe to our look."

"Do I even want to be a part of this?"

"Probably not, but I can assure you this will be fun," Rukia replied after Lisa took a piece of gum, and Rukia took out a nail filer from her briefcase.

"Is there something going on between you and Kurosaki, K.?" Lisa's tone was even and calm.

The question must have bothered her more than she knew because she nearly filed her two fingers shorter than intended. She was going to mourn her nails in a bit.

That question was straightforward and probably shouldn't have necessitated any surprise on her part, but she was still caught off guard. "I'm sorry?"

"Look, K., I really like you and think you're cool and don't want you to get hurt by any self-important assholes here, but you know, Kurosaki beds most of his secretaries. In a flash." She chuckled as Rukia was trying to process the joke; she still couldn't fathom the joke.

 _Is he the god of flash or something?_

Fine, she did think Kurosaki was quite charming; that much she could admit, but superficial attraction was just that. Superficial with no layered surface to move beyond or forward.

"Yadōmaru-san, I'm just his secretary."

Lisa snorted. "That's what she said. All of them."

Rukia cackled, liking the immature joke. "I may not be any different from Mr. Kurosaki's previous secretaries." She shook her head when Lisa tried to object, knowing that both of them respected each other, and that both of them got more work done than half of the people here, and continued, "But I assure you that the relationship you see between us is strictly professional."

Risa regarded Rukia quietly, hoping that it's true. But she's seen the way Kurosaki looked at her, and for once, it seemed more than a gleam of temporary lust. She liked Kurosaki fine, but his reputation here was quite notorious. For someone who was serious and passionate about this startup and his work, he was seriously passionate about sleeping with nearly all of his secretaries. Would K. be any different? But, she seemed different - if she could say so herself - always putting their boss in place, which he deserved.

"I believe you, K., but things change."

 _And people, I know._

Seamlessly synchronizing the filer and blowing pink bubbles were rather challenging, but once she found the rhythm, it was quite easy to manage despite the concentration required. Kurosaki was a bit later than usual today, which was odd, because despite his laid-back demeanor and playboy tendencies, he was quite a responsible person; serious with his work, sometimes respectful toward his colleagues, and he could be charming when time calls for it. That is, when he's not attempting to flirt with every secretary in this building.

Maybe she needed to stop observing him.

She stopped filing and pushed the red glasses back up; this was more ill-fitting than her other normal frames.

"What's this?"

His voice seemed a bit different today, a bit more velvety and smoother than normal. It was quite pleasant to listen to, but she wondered if that voice was reserved for certain women. When he wanted something. Physically.

 _Not today, you fuck boi. Ahem. Please excuse me for the language._

Ignoring his voice and its effects, she continued to file her nails, eyes focused on the easy tempo she established earlier prior to his interruption. If he made her lose a fingernail, she was going to feed him this filer. "I'm afraid I don't understand the question. I'm here, sitting like the great secretary I am. What's not to get with this image?"

"Why are you filing your nails?"

Must he be fascinated with everything she, or everyone for that matter, does? Still not looking at him, she gave him a precise answer, "Oh this? I'm performing as a stereotypical secretary. After watching the entire sets of _Ghostbusters_ , the cartoon series, three seasons of _Mad_ _Men_ because I need to binge the entire series later when life isn't busy, and the film _Secretary_ , staring Maggie Gyllenhaal and James Spader, I'm attempting to mimic what it means to be your secretary. I just finished reading four entertainment magazines, and this was the next secretarial thing to do."

She smirked when she glanced at him, who looked like he wanted to emulsify in front of her – fine with her.

Putting her filer down somewhere that didn't have any germs, she looked at her nails, quite liking the end result, and continued, "Though I have to say, after watching _500_ _Days_ _of_ _Summer_ , I prefer the term personal assistant, but I guess it's too late on what I _want_ , huh?"

 _Really, personal assistant sounds much better in my ears, but his ears must want something else._

"Rukia! You're doing this to mock me!"

Here comes her Brooklyn voice; the moment she was waiting for; maybe bubble popping would achieve greater results. It never hurt anyone to try. "You're confusing me, Mr. Kurosaki." Smack, smack. "First you tell me how to do my job." Bubble pop. "Then you tell me how to act like a secretary, acting as your secretary. So here I am. Nothing ever satisfies you, huh?" Smack, smack. She wanted to laugh at his expression, but with her bubble popping intervals, she wasn't sure if laughter would inadvertently make the bubble gum pop its residue all over her face. She wanted the last laugh and not to be laughed at.

He was watching her blow and pop bubbles intently, probably waiting for the gum to fall out of her mouth; she was much too careful to let that happen.

"Stop that."

"What?"

"Your smacking. It's rude, very unbecoming of you."

She immediately stopped, all those patronizing comments she received from her brother and their family returning in full force, causing her amusement to change into the familiar confinements of suppressed anger she had. She inwardly breathed, but responded, "Oh good lord. You sound like _him_." The emphasis on him was unintentional, but it came out, making it unable to ignore. Dorito and her brother sure had something against people chewing bubble gum. She needed to find an unlucky door handle to place her gum on; oh, the likely candidate was in front of her. Or maybe his window might be effective, too.

Rukia didn't understand why Kurosaki's face changed into a dangerous scowl; if looks could kill people. She didn't really say anything too rude, did she? Her eyes went up, attempting to refigure what she said earlier. Nope. Nothing abnormal. Maybe the bubble popping and smacking deterred his brain's function.

His mouth opened as she prepared herself for a lecture on etiquette; she's had several of those in the past twenty years, so it wasn't that much of a big deal, but she wanted to compare how different or similar his lecture would be from her family's. Would she be bored out of her mind?

The phone on her desk rang. Remembering phone etiquette 101, she gracefully took a piece of tissue and turned her face around, spitting her gum in the soft tissue and disposed it in her trash bin.

The phone kept ringing as she cleared her throat softly, washing away Janine Melnitz's voice. "Hello, Shoten's. This is K. Rukia speaking, how may I help you?"

She grabbed her discarded pen lying still on the edge of desk and twirled it as she loosely held the phone near the junction between her neck and ear, thinking it was a potential business partner or something about a possible future collaboration, but the woman on the other end started rambling about Kurosaki this, Kurosaki that, and how she missed him.

Rukia glared at Kurosaki, who seemed surprisingly amused. _I do not work here to take sex calls!_

She could feel his intense stare lingering on her and before he walked away, she signaled him with her right index finger, asking him to stay a bit; surprisingly, he did, and there was a soft smile on his face.

That smile disappeared instantly when she mouthed Riruka to him. This time she smiled and stifled a laugh. It was a unique name, but she was positively sure it was one of his many secretarial flings, and she probably wanted to schedule some time for intimacy.

She covered the phone and quietly laughed as her boss started to animatedly wave his hand around, baiting her to lie.

Sure. Why not? She was just a secretary; secretaries always covered their boss' bases. What he did on his own time didn't affect her; at least that's what she kept telling herself. "Oh, I sincerely apologize Dokugamine-san, Mr. Kurosaki is not in his office right now. He has several appointments today. Could I take a message for him?"

Still facing him, she gave him a smirk to acknowledge his thank you. But Kurosaki was intentionally walking slower as if he wanted to listen to the remaining conversation. Sometimes his steps would halt, and his head turned a bit, as if he wanted to hear what Rukia was saying.

She thought her voice was pleasant enough, sympathetic even, but no, this Riruka Dokugamine started lecturing her about having flings with a big shot boss, and that she shouldn't dare daydream.

Please if she were to daydream about anything, it would be to hang out up on her and get back to reading Chappy. So, what if she didn't dream big? Chappy was equally important to her.

She stared at Kurosaki's retreating figure, anger building inside of her for unknown reasons. He had the right to have multiple sexual partners, but was it her responsible to deal with them as he ran back into the safe confines of his office with a lack of awareness and accountability?

She hummed, stopping Dokugamine from saying anything further. Still staring at Kurosaki's back, her voice was agreeable, but in a controlled voice responded, "Oh, I'm sorry, Dokugamine-san. Perhaps you're misunderstanding here; never will I be like any other secretary because my livelihood depends on this job and nor do I seek any temporary sexual release."

She wasn't sure if she regretted her choice of words because she witnessed Kurosaki's back slumping. That defeated slump was all it took to diminish her fleeting victory as she felt bad for him.

.

.

.

He observed Rukia and Urahara talking to each other quite well acquainted with each other, not to mention comfortable working together, as they discussed how to re-secure and reconfigure Shoten's security network after there was a breach between information sharing. For hours everyone was attempting to re-code and find the best programming re-language for security until Rukia came in, delivering their lunches.

"Say, K.-san?" Everyone in the room turned to look at her with Ichigo noticing that she didn't like to be called out; if anything, it seemed like she wanted to blend in with the group. Not that she could because she used words as if they were her only weapon. If anything, her grandiose and well-timed speeches made her stand out.

"Yes, Urahara-san?" she replied with a bemused glint in her eyes.

Ichigo wondered why she always seemed so relax with everyone at Shoten.

 _Except me._

"You're experienced in engineering and programming software, yes?"

"I am, yes."

"Do you think you can offer some suggestions on how to secure our network? Preferably without any other third parties?"

"So, you want Shoten to control their own cybersecurity?" Ichigo could tell she was getting excited with the prospect of working with them; well, more than what her secretarial duties allowed. Both he and Urahara knew that her capabilities were on par with, or even exceeded, everyone sitting in this current room.

"Exactly that."

Before Rukia could answer, someone else voiced their complaint. "But Urahara-san! Isn't she just Ichigo's secretary? What does she know?"

Ichigo gulped as she saw fire coming out of Rukia's eyes, but she gently closed them and politely forced a smile. "Oh, Asano-kun. You're right, I'm just Mr. Kurosaki's secretary, but I do have a background in coding and engineering. And seeing that you've been sitting here looking at more than questionable magazines beneath your notepad, I'm sure I can offer some amateur suggestions that could easily be discarded by everyone here should they be laced with illogical algorithms. And speaking of experiences, may I ask what your credentials in the field are? Your file was quite thin, so I couldn't remember much."

Ichigo had to cough to mask his laugh as Keigo was simmering in anger. The man might be his friend, but Ichigo did hire him because of their friendship, which was probably not prudent, but he could handle some projects under strict supervision.

"Ara ara. K.-san, don't mind Asano-kun. I want to hear your expertise."

And for the past hour and a half, Rukia took control of the meeting and pleasantly showed them who was the boss.

And now she was working closely with Urahara, who treated Rukia as an equal; while she was still his secretary, sometimes Urahara would _borrow_ her genius to rework everything else in Shoten. This included project budgets and whether the robotics and machineries they wanted to improve were feasible.

And what an improvement they were. Ichigo wasn't sure why she chose to be a secretary when she could have aimed higher. He was sure if she asked, Urahara would have given her a higher position or even her own department to manage. But she didn't and Urahara didn't pursue anything. But Rukia did hand deliver Ichigo a resignation letter, asking if she could give in her two weeks' notice.

Shocked and with a shaking hand, he asked, "Why? Are you not happy here?" They were only getting to know each other, even though she was more than once expressed how uninterested and unimpressed she was with him.

"No, Mr. Kurosaki. It's quite comfortable here, but I'm –" If she was being honest with herself, Rukia couldn't acknowledge that she was growing frustrated with herself; she was getting tired of seeing Kurosaki's handsome yet irksome face. That and she was working on other side projects after hours. In a way, she was moonlighting a bit, but she had no allegiance to pledge to, so guilt be gone.

Rukia didn't get to finish her sentence since Urahara burst in Ichigo's office and refused her resignation, asking her to reconsider and that he could offer her a higher salary.

In the end, Rukia stayed, but informed both Ichigo and Urahara that it was temporarily and that she was going to resign.

Her resignation was shot down two more times. She could have just left, but Rukia being the professional she was, stayed, wanting to see how this game would continue. Or maybe the game pieces - Kurosaki and herself - became still, unable to move beyond or be near each other. It was a pattern that she hated to continue.

.

.

.

It was rare that Kurosaki and Rukia stayed in the office after hours, but the deadline was looming in, hovering them, and he was the primary leader of this AI program. And he needed Rukia to help him finalize the coding without the product becoming too uncanny for the masses.

"Thanks for staying, Rukia."

"What I'm paid for, especially since your shady partner will not let me leave," Rukia replied, a bit tired, but mirth was evident in her voice. "Either I must be an asset to Shoten or you just didn't want to me to leave at all."

"No one's forcing you to stay." But if Ichigo was honest with himself, he knew his attraction for Rukia was increasing each time they were together in the office. Maybe he really needed help. He wasn't sure if he was attracted to her or because she was simply conveniently his secretary.

"So, I can leave then?"

"And leave me with this? You can't be that cruel, Rukia."

"I take that as a no then." She stretched a bit; even her posture was straight and graceful whenever she did that. Her phone buzzed and she looked excited, and Ichigo wondered if it was _him_.

"Excuse me, Mr. Kurosaki, I'm going to take this outside."

Ichigo huffed, irritated that she was leaving him behind.

"I'll be back with some freshly brewed coffee so you can keep that scowl off when I come back." She smiled at him and walked out as she answered her phone.

Ichigo stared at her, languidly walking to her desk, knowing that she was just walking towards a non-direction, but her feet settled to a familiar location. Her hair was growing longer, and he observed how she attempted to tuck that lone strand between her eyes behind her right ear, only for it to stubbornly fall in place again.

Even with the artificial lights, there was no denying that she was beautiful, especially when she was standing in front of the windows where the moon, where the juxtaposition between the unnatural and natural rays of light collided with each other, she looked ethereal and regal. It was difficult to explain such simple beauty. Her aura, too.

She turned to look at Ichigo, who immediately looked down, pretending to read the reports and numbers, but they were blurring together and he couldn't make sense of them at the moment; Rukia continued to stare at him until he looked up, and she signaled to the kitchen. He nodded, knowing that she was going to brew him that cup of coffee she promised.

Ichigo knew his track record; sleeping with his secretaries and then refusing to commit to a relationship because he made a lamely concocted excuse that he didn't date his colleagues, only for them to quit and attempt to change his mind. The sex continued, but he still refused to settle down in a monogamous relationship.

But maybe with Rukia, he could reconsider; she has more than proven that she didn't cater to anyone, especially since she refused to respond to his blatant flirtatious displays of affection. That or she was very strong-willed, but it hurt that sometimes she gave him a disgusted look, as if he was the lowest of scum. That or maybe she was in a relationship with _him_ , and that still bothered him. Who was _him_?

Was it worth breaking his cycle to someone who wanted nothing more than being a mere stranger/colleague?

Maybe she was worth it. To him at least. Maybe he could change for her and show her that he was serious for her.

 _He could become serious for her._

He didn't realize her presence in the conference room until a cup of aromatic, steaming coffee was placed in front of his face.

"Thank you, Rukia."

She smiled and sat down, blowing in her cup as she waited for the dancing liquid to settle, and looked at her phone once in a while with a hint of a smile.

He wasn't sure what he felt, but that smile, even if it wasn't directed at him, seemed worth it.

"Rukia?"

She hummed and looked at him. "Yes, Mr. Kurosaki?"

"Would you like to grab something to eat." He paused, and eventually finished the fragment, "With me?"

She visibly tensed, setting her cup down, careful to not spill any drops of coffee. She stared at him for a bit and frowned. "I don't think that's a good idea, Mr. Kurosaki, but I thank you for the invitation."

He knew what she meant. Words computed. "No! I mean just tonight. We're working on this project late and we could take a break and get something to eat."

Her face relaxed, which depressed him. "Oh, well, I don't say no to free food."

Tonight could be a chance for them. "Is that a yes?" He mumbled the question.

She rolled her eyes; must he always need validation? "Of course it is."

"Ichigo!" came a familiar wail. And it wasn't Rukia; she's never called him by his birth name, showing the distance she wanted to maintain.

He wasn't sure how Senna entered the office – he needed to speak with security.

"Senna," he said, disinterestedly. He was being an asshole, that much he recognized, but she was very clingy. More so than his usual partners.

She went to hug him, only for him to gently brush her away from him. He took a chance and stared at Rukia, who despite the commotion, sat back down and quietly sipped her coffee, waiting.

"Ichigo! Why didn't you answer any of my calls? Did you lose your phone?" She started saying incomprehensible, irrelevant things and stopped when she saw Rukia sipping her coffee and read over the notes that were spread around the table.

And sneered at her. "Who is this, Ichigo? Your newest bitch?"

"Senna," Ichigo growled. "Don't start."

Rukia stood up, staring at the two, but Ichigo could tell she was attempting to mask her anger. She shook her head. "Miss, please don't assume. I'm not anyone's bitch." She wanted to say more and dissect the term a bit more, but she was tired and frustrated, all hopes of a normal working relationship with Kurosaki went down the drain again. "Mr. Kurosaki, I think we can finish this later. Have a _good_ night."

The Senna woman sneered and started explicitly telling Ichigo – and Rukia – about their escapades.

"Rukia! Please, I can explain –"

She never looked back nor listened to his meaningless words as Ichigo and Senna argued.

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Rukia was getting irritated with Urahara these days. He rejected her resignation letter for the fourth time, promising her that she can leave once they're done with the projects this year. That meant that she had to remain as Kurosaki's secretary until the end of this year. She clicked her tongue; that man and his life were going to be the end of her. Tonight, out of all nights, when she and her senpai from graduate school, were catching up during dinner, she saw Kurosaki and Inoue, she was pretty sure it was Inoue, judging from the picture on her file, making out. She saw tongue and everything, which made her nearly regurgitate her Naporitan.

"Kuchiki, are you alright?" Kaien asked, handing Rukia a glass of iced cold water.

Coughing was a way to attempt to breathe again and she nodded. "I'm fine, Kaien-senpai. Thanks."

Rukia stared at the temp _couple_ again, and shrugged, opting to not care as the cool water went down, burning out the flames. For the rest of the night, all feelings of what Kurosaki said the morning after that Senna ordeal, diminished as she listened to Kaien talking about a potential op-ed piece she could write, which could get her writing aspirations back on track. He was the news editor for an online press and wanted her to write something for him; an op-ed that was politically relevant or something that held an ounce of emotional urgency; it was up to her.

She smiled at her senpai, grateful for his support, as they caught up with each others' lives and Miyako's pregnancy.

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Ichigo stared in shock when he saw Rukia walk out with another man with black spiky hair; her hand was on him as she laughed, her eyes twinkling as the man whispered something in her ear? But their proximity was temporary as Rukia blushed and bowed, as if apologizing for touching him. That small gesture made Ichigo feel more at ease, even if it was selfish of him to think so. The man shook his head, and tugged at Rukia as he dragged her somewhere, away from the restaurant.

She probably noticed him and Inoue and their full blown PDA. He thought picking a restaurant outside of Karakura would be more discreet and away from familiar prying eyes, but of course, Rukia had to be here. Tonight. Why did he keep fucking up with her? Not that anything had started between them, but had he had more self-control, he probably wouldn't feel like he just disappointed the person he admired and respected the most.

He could feel Inoue's hand on his leg, rubbing him in small, sensual circles. He closed his eyes; whether out of self-disgust or because he knew he was the one who stilled any progress in their potential relationship, he didn't know.

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That night, Rukia sat staring at her iMac, preparing to write her assigned op-ed. She knew Kaien asked her to contribute because of what happened between her and ASS, specifically requesting that she write about the death of journalistic integrity.

Rukia's face darkened, but there was wicked smile on her lips as she mentally outlined how this piece could thinly veil her critiques on that ASS.

Her phone buzz, alerting a text.

 _Rukia, are you awake?_

It was Kurosaki. She rolled her eyes. Wasn't he busy getting hot and bothered with his current partner? Why bother her? She decided to ignore the text as she began typing; that sinister smile that read "I am a mastermind" etched on her knowing yet unreadable face.

Another text.

 _Rukia?_

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Ichigo sighed, turning on his side; long after Inoue left, he felt – empty? Alone? Miserable? He wasn't sure why. But he really wanted to know how Rukia was. He never got to explain himself with Senna; she never went home with him, but that also didn't mean he didn't call someone else as a replacement for the night.

He actually thought Rukia might have been interested enough that night to maybe come home with him, but he should've known better. He shouldn't expect anything from her. Especially her. She never would let anyone close.

He growled. _Except him_. He finally knew who _him_ was, and it was someone that Rukia seemed to be comfortable with.

His phone buzzed, feeling elated; maybe it was her.

 _Mr. Kurosaki, I respectfully request that you don't contact me after business hours. As a reminder, we're just colleagues._

Rejection was something he never understood, but that icy yet professional tone was all it took to bring him back to reality. Maybe he wasn't who he thought he was: self-assured, confident with women, and successful. Rukia might not know it yet, but her words could crush him in a single second.

For the rest of the night, he kept reading her reply, his heart burdened with an ineffable weight. Wordless as the weight may be, he felt suffocated, feeling restless for the remainder of the night.

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End notes:

Hello. I'm here sometimes. I wanted to continue this story, corresponding the first part with Rukia's point of view. There will be another chapter that ends this story. I wanted to write something fun and not as heavy.

Cheers.


	3. Chapter 3

Every blinking second showed how time was moving forward. At least on her iMac. There were times where Rukia thought she was resolute, adamant on not writing last minute, working until the very last minute, before the deadline abruptly becomes a passing a passing reality. She had thought that she was done with replicating bad writing behavior and practices she developed during university, but for days she's been having difficult tying and connecting everything back to this.

Why couldn't she just finalize this draft? Were her witticisms declining after working for Dorito brain? If anything, she thought their verbosely charged exchanges would have increased her clever Rukiaisms output, both externally and internally. But then again, speaking to a moving frown droid casted a gloomy, dismal sense of stillness.

And not the good kind.

Speaking of that orange haired, walking chip, he's been more sullen and uncommunicative for the past two weeks; at least more frequently. Blinking away the blurriness prompted by the glaring screen, as if it was yelling her to finalize the last touches of her op-ed and email it to Kaien-senpai, who was probably wondering if she became a digital ghost, becoming a part of the dark web.

Stretching her legs while remained seated on her very comfortably well-cushioned computer chair, she sighed, still wondering about Kurosaki and his sudden mood change. Thinking back, the only thing she can remotely, yet inconclusively, conclude is that her last text, succinct yet maybe cutting to some, might have set his behavior off.

 _Did that text really prompt something?_

The power of words.

And here she was, unable to find the words to finalize her current writing piece. Kuchikis had unwavering self-control of their emotions with the exception of her constant giggles and unabashed obnoxious laughter – something that Ikkaku transferred over to her – she was quite sure she could maintain her self-irritation even inside her own apartment.

 _Why can't I think of a fitting title?_

It was a habit; she often obsessed over the title of her pieces; like a musical note, the title was the hook that generated interest. She began typing mindlessly, thinking of the first few words that might form the shape of her conclusive beginning.

"Erroneously Written."

Too pretentious and lacked nuance.

She didn't know why, but she thought of Kurosaki. Uncouth, not exactly pretentious, but lacked the artful depth of subtleness.

"The Frowning: Journalism's Death."

She giggled in glee as she tapped her chin, reading over the title. It wasn't professional – much like the Dorito she was working for – so she couldn't use it. In fact, The Frowning sounded like a good name for a press. She was going to archive that one for the future.

She deleted that title, erasing all images of Doritos and Kurosaki from her mind. He's been intruding in her thoughts a lot lately. Softly shutting her eyes, she sighed.

"True Lies."

She snorted. She wasn't a fan of Schwarzenegger, who was always back for some reason. Besides, ASS' pieces couldn't even be classified as _true lies_ ; they were smear pieces that were erroneously and embellished with misinformation and scared tactics – or politicized mass hysteria – to destroy.

ASS must be living in her mind now because she quietly gets set off every single time she inadvertently thinks about him. Like Arnold there, ASS was always back, where he was always unwelcomed.

 _ASS? Hm._

She chuckled darkly at her computer screen as she played with that stubborn lone strand of hair between her eyes; perhaps she can have fun with that abbreviation; she loved playing with words.

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Ichigo parked his car near the coffee shop he frequented before work. A cup of strongly brewed coffee might wake him up and lessen his self-inflicted, pitiful state. And it would comfort him as the sight of autumn changed the leaves and entire landscape of Karakura.

After that wakeup call – er, text – with Rukia and her lack of response to him, he made the executive self-decision to temporarily halt his temporary secretarial flings. He wasn't addicted to sex, sure he loved having sex, but he needed to rethink his priorities, especially since there were several projects at Shoten that needed his undivided attention. Sex can wait. That and he stopped answering calls and texts from his sexual partners. How cowardly was the description that he could imagine Rukia calling him if she knew that he never gave them a clear, verbalized indicator that he didn't want to have sex with them anymore, let alone seeing them again.

No, it wasn't because he was vying for his secretary's – no, Rukia's – she wasn't his to possess – attention because that failed since their first meeting: her interview. She had pointed out how unimpressed and uninterested she was with and in him, probably because he was a playboy or that she was much more intelligent than him. But these two weeks were particularly difficult since she really didn't want to stay in the same room as him, always preferring to work with Urahara or Lisa rather than being with him.

He was resolute; he just needed to semi change his current lifestyle. Again, sex can happen anytime he wanted.

That way maybe they could have a better working relationship.

Still, he frowned, unable to understand anything, even the seemingly minute things, about Rukia. Opening the door for the family of three behind him, scaring the little boy with his face, whose big eyes nearly teared up upon seeing him and his mane, he noticed Rukia reading a magazine, her left index finger moving every so often to push her black frames in place, wearing her usual high-end secretary clothes.

 _She must have ditched the red frames. But whatever, the black ones look better on her._

He didn't know how long he stood there, observing her. He must have looked like a creep, standing in front of the door and unmoving.

"Oh, excuse us!" some college girls chirped at him. He vaguely heard them talk about his rugged handsomeness.

He blushed when her gaze shifted from the magazine to him.

 _Is it me or did her gaze soften a bit? Or it is the light's refraction that created that illusion?_

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Turning the page slowly to avoid a papercut, she wondered if she was being paranoid, but she could feel someone staring at her. It couldn't be anyone from the clan because they rarely travel to Karakura, unwilling to commute to such a smaller, obscure town.

She pushed her frames back, aligning them to her ears comfortably and shrugged. She didn't care, she just wanted to finish her magazine and coffee before heading to work. She had about an hour left and instead of going for a power nap before being K. Rukia, the secretary, the high after completing an all-nighter op-ed didn't leave her and she decided to reward herself with a cup of coffee and some pastry delicacies here. She could always go to sleep right after work and sleep in since it was Friday.

"Oh my gosh! Do you see how he hot he is! Those jeans does wonders to his ass, and that leather jacket? Hot!"

Rukia felt the college students brushing past her; it was a busy day here. That and their comments were kind of basic; it was fair to appreciate anyone, but jeans does wonders to his ass? What kind of wonder? Weird compliment.

She should have stopped herself, but the college girls' comments generated an interest, and eyes do roam, so she picked up her coffee cup and looked at the direction the girls' voices trailed from.

Oh, _him_.

Rukia appraised his outfit and softly snorted. Sure, okay, so he did look nice. Black leather jacket an equally nice plain black fitted shirt underneath. So, he looked like a model. Big deal. Yumichika looked like a model with all of his feathers and attempted grandeur fashion, too. The only difference was that Yumichika had an eclectic sense of style that was difficult to emulate. Kurosaki dressed like almost half of the world's population.

They caught each other's eyes, their gazes never straying from each other. She deduced he was the one creeping on her. That was all he did at the office anyway, so it wasn't that surprising he continued that habit elsewhere. Rukia wasn't dense; she knew because she was his secretary, she was habitually next on his things – or people – to do.

Rukia giggled into her warming coffee cup as she freed herself from his lingering gaze. But then she resumed observing him because the man's stare wouldn't budge, eyes set on staring at her. Didn't she already leave him more than enough hints?

Kurosaki coughed and finally looked away.

 _Wait? Is he blushing? He looks like an idiot standing there blocking the door. I might as well do something nice for once._

She waved him over to her table; there was room for him to sit down and not flirt with her. She decided that if he could keep things professionally distant between them, then maybe they, especially him, could end their – his – awkward working relationship.

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To not walk over or to walk over was the million-dollar question Ichigo was internally battling with, attempting to find the most appropriate answer. He had to look away after Rukia giggled into her coffee cup like the adorable yet sophisticated woman she was; probably laughing at him for gaping at her like a love-struck idiot.

He was about to leave the establishment, promising himself that he was never going to come here on Friday mornings again since he made himself look like a weirdo in front of his crush. He was about to turn to the exit and leave, hoping that she wouldn't use this as a leverage to increase their hostility in the office. But before he knew it, he looked at her sitting form again, eyes widening the moment she waved at him(?).

He had to be dreaming, right? Never in a million years would K. Rukia wave at him, eyes friendly though there was that familiar wicked sheen in them and invite him over for something as banal as small chat. Though Rukia was good at that, creating long-winded banters to the point he could never keep up, he knew she knew about his notorious reputation at the office; in all honesty it was an open secret. Was this a trick? Did she want him to come over only for her to immediately leave the table all the while laughing her ass off while she elegantly sauntered out of the coffee shop?

He looked behind him, making sure she wasn't waving at someone else because he knew he would need to liquify immediately had she been waving at someone else.

Turning back towards her, he saw her rolling her eyes at him, and continued to wave at him. And then she chuckled, shoulders shaking. That was an incentive to walk over to her.

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Seconds passed as Ichigo continued to resituate himself on the wooden chair, barely registering that Rukia was finishing her magazine, one that wasn't a gossip magazine, but an international magazine reporting newsworthy events, while simultaneously laughing at his obvious discomfort.

"Um," he started. _Smooth Kurosaki, real smooth._ "What are you read –"

"You're not going to order a drink?"

"Huh?"

She turned to the final page, but instead of continuing to read, she looked at him, face impassive as ever but her eyes told a different story. "Aren't you here for a hot drink? You know, Mr. Kurosaki, it's rude to sit at a coffee shop, ordering nothing but staring at people. Even patrons using the WIFI here have the decency to order a drink and then sit for hours."

Ichigo glared at Rukia, whose relaxed face was attempting to fight off the smirk threatening to appear on her face. "I'm going to order. I thought it would be more polite to accept your invitation and sit here and attempt to talk to you first and then offer you another beverage."

She hummed as she was undoubtedly finishing the magazine before she could formulate more words to challenge him. Maybe she was reading to search for more vocabulary to use against him. What a calculative woman.

"Why invite me over to this table if you're not going to talk to me?" He huffed, knowing full well he was being petulant, but he thought her inviting him over meant they could start a conversation and get to know each other better, or at the very least, start something that didn't replicate the entirety of their current relationship: work, awkward stares – mostly him, both silent and verbal shading – mostly her, and finally, the unbearably close yet distant existent but nonexistent relationship they had.

"Stop pouting, Mr. Kurosaki." She still wasn't looking at him, resolute on finishing the last piece in the magazine before she even considered looking at him. "I invited you because you look like a lost goldfish, swimming in the vast sea of people who might have squashed you to death." She was finally done with the magazine and placed it down, but slowly did so, making Ichigo's frown even more pronounced, if that was possible. "If anything, you should be thanking me for inviting you over, seeing there's an extra chair here." She looked at her almost empty coffee cup and finished the last drop. "I'm going to the office now; you're welcome to stay here."

She wanted to burst out laughing at his face; he did look like a goldfish.

"But I just sat down."

"Yes?"

"You just invited me over."

Rukia sighed; this was going to be a long line of singular questions. Why didn't she just get up and leave already? But misery loves misery.

"Again, yes?"

"We still have time to chat a bit. You know, catch up before work."

Well, they could certainly do that, but why not at the office? Of course, both haven't exactly been forthcoming with each other.

"You have time, Mr. Kurosaki. Might I remind you that you often come in after 9am while I have less than an hour since I come in at 7:30am as so many of the secretaries at Shoten do."

She noticed that he wanted to say something but decided to respond with a quick yet soulless response of "Never mind." His frown changed into a deadly scowl, even the college girls from earlier who were seated nearby got frightened, but that didn't stop them from fawning over him.

Rukia placed the magazine in her briefcase, not sure what to feel or think about this situation. Maybe inviting him over wasn't the best idea. This man and his drastic mood swings, or frighteningly personality changes, were stupendous.

Still studying his furrowed lines on his face, she sighed and simply said, "A Cortado, please."

Ichigo looked at her, surprised etched on his face. "Eh?"

She rolled her eyes; this man certainly knew how to get her eyes rolling. "Didn't you say you were going to offer me a beverage?"

"Eh?" Then it clicked. She was going to stay, if only momentarily. "Right! A Cortado. Wait, please, just wait for me for a bit.".

She nodded, overwhelmed by his sudden burst of visible optimism; an order of that at this moment would make her crash and burn. "Okay, but please hurry, Mr. Kurosaki. It's the morning rush and I need all the coffee I can get a hold of." Rukia yawned, the all-nighter, expectedly, came crashing down on her.

Ichigo jumped up and nearly knocked his chair over, noticing that her eyes looked tired and red. "Okay, I'll be right back." And he hurriedly walked over to the growing long line of waiting coffee consumers

Rukia hummed; who knew there were so many Terminators living in Japan.

And for the next 25 minutes, after Ichigo returned with Rukia's Cortado and his own aromatic Flat white, they simply talked, letting words flow without hidden intent or sarcastic melodies from hindering their progress, conversing about nothing and everything.

Ichigo was grateful she was giving him this opportunity to just talk like colleagues and possible friends; Rukia was not only thankful for a free cup of expensive coffee, but for once, she was pleasantly surprised he didn't even try to smooth talk her, talking to her like a human being, an equal of sorts.

They talked with each other; they listened to each other, occasionally pausing to sip their hot drinks to break their heavily concentrated gazes at one another.

And almost every Fridays after that, Ichigo would find Rukia at the coffee shop at the same time, reading either the newspaper, a magazine, or a book while slowly sipping her coffee; even if she sat at different locations, she was always there, waving at Ichigo.

Casual Friday morning coffees gradually became their routine.

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One Friday morning after leaving a smirking Ichigo at the coffee shop, Rukia found herself being pulled into one of the many pristine and pleasantly smelling restrooms at Shoten.

She may be small, but she was a formidable MMA fighter. It may be early in the morning, but she was more than alert.

She looked up; almost everyone had to be a foot taller than her. "Yadōmaru-san?" This was interesting since Lisa was often cool and reserved and never acted, well, this impulsively.

"K." Lisa droned out, arms crossed, but worry was evident on her face.

Rukia looked around the restroom; was there a secret meeting she didn't know about? One that's held in the restroom, of all places. "Yes?"

"What's going on with you and Kurosaki? Did he say something that swayed you?" And then she grabbed Rukia's shoulders, shaking her almost a bit too aggressively, "Did he _do_ something to you yet?"

Oh, this question again. Didn't she already answer this? Why bring it up again? Just because they had coffee for several consecutive Fridays didn't mean there was anything physical or sexual between them.

Another shake. "K.! It's okay, you can tell me. And then I can bring in my gang and we can teach him a lesson!"

"Yadōmaru-san, please stop shaking me! I'm getting disoriented and dizzy here." The shaking finally stopped and Rukia took a moment to breathe. "What kind of gang are we talking about, Yadōmaru-san?"

"Oh, sorry, sorry. We'll it's not like I'm in the yakuza, K., but I'm in this club called the Visored, where we just learn sword skills and fight each other to get stronger. You know, fighting with friends without killing each other. Actually, Kurosaki is a member as well; he's not the most agile, but one of the strongest and fastest, but you know, all of us teaming up on him might do the trick."

Rukia blinked, processing the information. "Oh, so like fight club? How violent of you. And please don't murder someone on my behalf, Yadōmaru-san."

"It's not like that, and let's not digress here. I know how clever you can be. Answer me, K. Did something happen between you and Kurosaki? And don't get into your long soliloquies; you may be poetic, but this is serious. I want a clear answer."

Rukia answered with an honest yet simple no.

"Really? Then why are you two always walking together every Friday mornings? Kurosaki is never one to be at work that early, especially on a Friday."

Shrugging, Rukia responded, "We sometimes meet at the coffee shop nearby and we just talk and sometimes after I leave, he leaves. I'm not sure how fast he is, but he usually catches up with me and we sometimes walk to the office together. Idle chat and equally unremarkable conversations."

"You make it sound so – technically bland."

"Well, that's all there is to it."

Lisa regarded Rukia, walking around her in circles as if she was the interrogator; Rukia stifled a giggle. Lisa was like that older sister who had to be the protective guardian, a strong female figure that she never had growing up.

"You're like a little sister to me, K. I don't want you to be one of Kurosaki's bedwarmers. God knows he has a line of them waiting to be handcuffed to his bed."

The image, oh the image. It was going to haunt her for the rest of the day. "Yadōmaru-san, I thank you for your concern. But can't a woman and a man just have a platonic relationship and be friends?" She probably knew the answer to that, or maybe she really didn't; those kinds of questions were not only complex but sometimes one-sided.

"With you, yes. But it's a different story with Kurosaki. Have you even seen the way he looks at you?"

"Like what? A secretary handcuffed to his bed?"

They both nearly dropped dead on the clean bathroom floor tiles due to their uncontrollable laughter.

Lisa was the first to recover, after some deep breaths, she coughed and continued, "You really don't know?"

"No?"

Lisa rolled her eyes. "For someone as robotically smart as you, K., you sure are dense when it comes to men. He's giving you that look. Not really that come-hither look, which is surprising, but the look when someone you desire is there but unreachable."

Okay, Lisa was reading too many shojo manga; that and she was sure she wasn't that attractive nor was she the model type secretary that Kurosaki went for. "I think you're being a bit too over-imaginative, Yadōmaru-san. I'm not his type." She pushed her glasses back in their comfortable position.

Never truly breaking her stare from Rukia, Lisa mimicked her, pushing her own glasses back into place, and calmly asked, "Because you're not a secretary waiting to be handcuffed by him?"

The joke should have expired after the first time, but they were both coolly crude, something unknown by outsiders. And outside, Rukia's and Lisa's lively laughter and howling cries could be heard in the restroom, and it startled the maintenance staff as no one laughed like that on an early Friday morning.

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"Hey," Ichigo mumbled a bit too softly as he passed by Rukia's desk.

"Hi, Mr. Kurosaki," Rukia greeted, more like sang, as she nodded in acknowledgement and then immediately went back to scrolling and clicking.

They both weren't sure how long it was, but Ichigo remained rooted there, standing with a soft smile, looking over the building's interior as he listened to the tapping sounds of Rukia's keyboard.

Rukia fully turned her chair to give Ichigo a look, who was unaware of her careful scrutiny, remembering her conversation with Lisa.

 _After laughing and scaring one of the maintenance staff, they collected themselves, making sure that no one heard them being this obnoxious._

 _Lisa took out a cloth and started cleaning her glasses, which was stained by her tears. "So, you're telling me that you're not interested in him?" She looked at Rukia, and clarified, "As in moving on towards something more physical."_

 _There was a slight hesitation, which Lisa noticed._

 _"I knew it. He's charmed you."_

 _Of course, Kurosaki was charming, she already admitted that much. But to be in a relationship with someone who had a secretary of the month? She didn't want to be a part of that._

 _"I do admit that he's charming, but like I've told you multiple times, Yadōmaru-san, I really can't afford to be in a relationship with someone at work. That's just too much baggage. I'm not some expendable woman – no women should be – and I can respect Mr. Kurosaki's non-monogamous relationships, but I don't intend to be one of the many."_

 _"So, you wouldn't mind if I set you up on a date?"_

Ichigo waved his hand in front of her; she blinked. "Earth to Rukia."

"Present."

"Any phone calls while I was in the meeting?"

She shook her head, pleased that no one called for their Kurosaki-kun or Ichigo. "Why? Were you expecting a call from someone?" Maybe one of his many partners couldn't get a hold of him and wanted to schedule a tryst.

His face reddened, but he maintained his cool composure, something Rukia didn't think he was capable of having. He probably understood what she was implying. "No, I was just checking."

She hummed; since she heard her brother humming after firing her, she's made it a habit to hum when in deep thought; Kuchikis inherit the oddest quirks from one another; and turned to face him smiling too sweetly at him. "But I should be expecting a call from _someone_ right?" She arched an eyebrow.

"No!" Gosh! Did she not notice that he hasn't been calling other girls since they started seeing each other every Friday? Either Rukia was too dim to recognize that he was interested in her, or she wasn't experienced in relationships in general. He thought she was with _him_. Shouldn't she recognize non-verbal cues?

Wait, did those Friday morning coffees count as dates?

"Rukia," he started, but faltered, too afraid to ask that question and equally frightened to hear her scoff and tell him those Friday morning coffees with him meant absolutely nothing to her.

Her phone buzzed. It was Ikkaku. Smiling apologetically, but still a bit too saccharine for Ichigo, she said, in that horrible Brooklyn accent again, "I'm sorry, Mr. Kurosaki. I gotta take this call. Chat later."

She sauntered away from him, laughing as she said, "Moshi, moshi."

Ichigo released a defeated breath as he stared at her disappearing form.

"Kurosaki."

Ichigo turned left and came face-to-face the one and only Lisa.

 _Shit, I thought I attended last week's training session. Or, did I forget again because I was too busy screwing around?_

That was over five weeks ago, when he was still sleeping around.

Ichigo nervously glanced at Lisa; he was her superior yes, but she could be scary and wasn't one to be messed with, especially when she holds a spear. He also respected her too much to even attempt anything; in a way, she was one of his many senpais. But he couldn't read Lisa, her glasses seemed to have hidden her intent.

"Can we talk somewhere private?"

Oh boy. What did he do now? "Sure, let's go into my office."

Immediately after his door shut, Lisa calmly started her interrogation, her warning, whichever he preferred. "Don't screw with K., Kurosaki."

"What?! I'm not screwing around with Rukia!"

"Okay, good. Then don't lead her on and don't try anything on her."

His faced reddened, but not because he was embarrassed, but because he was angry; so very infuriated at his friend and employee.

"It's none of your goddamn business, Lisa. But just to let you know, I'm not screwing around with or leading her on."

"So, you're telling me you don't want to have coitus with her?"

His face turned crimson, both because of embarrassment because it was quite true. That and Lisa must have been reading a lot of hentai magazines lately. He was physically attracted to Rukia, yes, but he promised himself he wouldn't try anything on her. She wasn't like the other secretaries; she already made that clear.

"Your silence is everything, Kurosaki. I'm telling you now, she isn't just your usual secretary of the week. She has a brain, much bigger than yours and everyone's combined here. Be a decent human being for once and stay away from her. Well, besides work."

Before he was able to put in a word to defend himself, she continued, "She's a monogamist, Kurosaki. You're not. That's the reality."

Ichigo turned to face his desk, unable to face Lisa's wrath. He took in a deep breath as everything seemed to be catching up on him. Some bad decisions and wondered how one person can change his perspective and life so much. Was it realistic? Or did he simply want to conquer and maintain his conquests?

"What if I want to start a relationship with her?" The question was almost inaudible that Lisa had to edge a bit closer to hear him correctly.

"Really, Kurosaki? One woman who happens to be your secretary, who doesn't want to bed you and you automatically want to date her? Is this one of your sexual fantasies or perverted games?"

Ichigo was beyond angry, but he willed himself to calm down again, knowing that Lisa had the right to be guarded when it came to his personal life choices; he really couldn't blame her.

He finally turned to face her. "I don't know how to explain it, Lisa, but I am attracted to her. It's more than lust, it's just – something else," he finished lamely.

Lisa shook her head. "I'm sorry for being so harsh, Kurosaki, but I've grown quite fond of K., that miniature weirdo, a genius one too, and she doesn't deserve to be discarded by anyone like you."

 _Anyone like me huh? Does Rukia perceive me to be that way? Figures. I deserve it._

"And she's going on a date with Kensei tomorrow."

 _Wait, huh? Muguruma Kensei?_

"What the hell, Lisa?! Did you set them up?"

She shrugged, pulling out another piece of gum Rukia gave her after their stint in the restroom from her pocket. "I asked K. if she had a boyfriend."

Ichigo was interested, eyes widening and anticipating the answer.

"She does."

It was the end of the world for him.

"Excuse me, she did." Lisa tried not to smirk but chose to blow a sugary bubble; Rukia's dark sense of humor was transferring over her; it was great to be a part of her life, utter brilliance. "She had a boyfriend during her graduate and post-doctorate years; they were in a seven-year relationship, cohabiting with one another. Apparently, he was a hot one."

Seven years! Though Ichigo had several sex partners, they only lasted a few months, though he did ring them up once in a while. But seven years felt like an eternity. Could he really do that? Be in a relationship with one person forever?

"And tell me why you decided to set her up with Kensei?"

Another bubble pop. "He was the first name that came to mind. And apparently K. has a thing for men with tattoos."

Lisa left Ichigo's office, trying to fight off a snicker after seeing his face.

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.

.

Rukia was quietly laughing as she listened to Ikkaku's praises on her latest op-ed. "Don't flatter me, Ikkaku. You know you can be honest with me; if you don't like it, you can tell me. I won't get mad at you."

He howled in laughter, which hurt her ear drums a bit "Don't like it? K., the title alone is enough to win a prize: 'A Subtle Shade.' Equals ASS. I'm pissing on myself just saying it."

"Har har har, Ikkaku. What do you think about the content?" She rolled her eyes when he said amazing. I'm going to need more than flattery and adjectives, Ikkaku."

"You know damn well how good this piece is, K. You were direct and seriously cutting the bastard with your words as you framed this piece as a meditation on the art of shading." He started laughing again; Rukia could practically hear tears streaming down his eyes, messing up his red eyeshadow.

"Okay, well, if you have nothing substantial to describe it. Let's talk about it next week. And be sure not to mention it in Nii-sama's presence, or he will have your head."

"Pft. I ain't afraid of your brother."

She smirked. "Oh yeah, then why don't you quit?"

Silence and some wheezing can be heard.

He finally cleared his throat and seriously said, "I'm called into his office as we speak. Yumichika and me will catch up with you next Friday. See ya."

"That's what I thought. See you then."

"Keep writing, K."

"Keep telling yourself that, Ikkaku. I bet you have a lot of backlogs."

"Why you –"

"Bye," she crooned and ended the call and chuckled. She turned around and started walking back to her designated desk, greeting everyone pleasantly. It was a good day.

Until she saw Kurosaki's intensely ugly scowl that decorated his face. Wasn't he semi-content when she left to take this call? Or did Urahara make him read over more reports?

With steps that never wavered, she walked in a straight line, noticing Lisa saluting her and blowing a pink bubble. She saluted her back. Black haired girls with glasses unite. Oh, that would be an excellent theme song for an anime series.

"Rukia," his voice was tense as he greeted her again.

She stared at him as she repositioned herself on her chair. "Hi, Mr. Kurosaki."

She looked at her desk, no new reports or assignments so far.

"Rukia," he said again.

This was getting weird. Did someone activate _Groundhog Day_ on her? Must she continue repeating his name?

She did anyway and used her same inflection and tone; might as well continue the spiritual legacy of the film. "Hi, Mr. Kurosaki."

They stared at each other and she swore she saw a sheen of sadness hidden behind his amber orbs. But she also knew he was passive to the point that he won't share any of his burdens and she wasn't going to pry. If he wanted to talk, she would listen. If he didn't, well freedom to her ears.

He stared at her for a longer moment and nodded with a sigh and reentered his office.

She stared straight ahead, observing Lisa diligently and quietly typing at her designated desk, attempting to solve the puzzle. Did she say something to Kurosaki during her absence?

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.

She didn't see Kurosaki on Monday; he was traveling with Urahara for a business meeting, and good thing she wasn't required to travel with them because she was beyond tired. That and she called Kurosaki on Sunday, expecting him to be busy with someone, but he was there, who seemed happy yet surprised she called.

"Rukia?"

"Good morning, Mr. Kurosaki." She heard some shuffling. "Oh, I apologize, are you busy?"

"No, I was just working out."

She raised her right eyebrow. Was this a euphemism for sex?

He seemed to have noticed his choice of words. "Shit. I meant, I just got back from the gym."

He didn't have to explain himself to her, but sure, honesty was always nice. "Oh, I see. I was calling to ask if you needed me on Monday. If not, could I request the day off?"

She heard him grumbling and heard something about date. Was he talking about himself? Was he going on a date? If so, why make it so audible to her?

"Why do you need a day off, Rukia? Are you seeing someone?"

"I do have an important appointment, yes."

"Personal?"

"You can say that, yes."

He shakily released a breathe.

"To clarify, Mr. Kurosaki. I'm meeting a former mentor of mine. I haven't seen him in years and he's rarely in Karakura. I thought I could catch up with him. That and to use this as leverage against you, I did complete your annual reports three weeks in advance and then I also typed your press releases and drafted three AI manuals. These are projects that you should be doing, not your mere secretary who is just trying to file, both her nails and the digital database, in which I also secured for Shoten. In many cases, you should be the one working harder, not me, the poor secretary."

"Are you threatening me, Rukia!? I'm your boss." But she could identify some elation in his voice.

"And you must be very proud of yourself, Mr. Kurosaki, knowing that you have a secretary who does everything for you."

He grumbled again, muttering something she could barely make out. "Fine, you can have a day off."

"Bless your heart! Thank you, may you live long and prosper." She giggled.

He laughed, sarcastically. "But – but I will see you tomorrow, right?" He sounded hesitant, dare she say, hopeful.

"Yes, of course, I'll be there. What kind of secretary would I be if I left you stranded for two consecutive days?"

"The awful kind."

"On second thought. I might just magically disappear in space. Farewell, Mr. Kurosaki!"

"Hey, now wait a minute, Rukia! Don't you dare hang up now. Rukia!"

After hanging up, her eyes lingered on her call history, smiling at the most recent number.

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.

.

That same day, she met up with Kaien and Ukitake-sensei, discussing her very well-received piece; apparently, it was talked about and Kageyoshi Press, had to release a press statement, surprisingly, not a press conference, about ASS' writing. For once, he was being questioned and held accountable for his damaging pieces. But one of the elders who blatantly showed his disdain towards Rukia, informed the masses that K.R., was no longer associated with Kageyoshi, and so her words should not be taken seriously. He even had the audacity to say that her piece was written as vengeance against her former employer. That was code for: Kuchiki Rukia is a traitor, but we can't tell the public that K.R. is Kuchiki Rukia.

She wasn't one to damn her relatives, but she was close to it.

But then Ukitake-sensei warmly and kindly congratulated her on her piece and asked if she wanted to become a book editor for Shiro-Shiro Press.

"It's been years since we last saw each other, Kuchiki, but I'm really proud of your work, as you should be yourself." He smiled at her. "We're an upcoming press, but we'll be honored if you joined our team."

Rukia tried to subdue her blush from appearing as the two most important men in her life sat in front of her. "Ukitake-sensei, I'm grateful for your kindness, but it's a risk to hire me. I'm the disgraced family member of the Kuchiki clan. You'll get bad press."

Ukitake waved a hand, his smile was still very much present, unchanged after all these years. "Nonsense. We're lucky to have you. It's awful, but no one really knows that K.R. is Kuchiki Rukia, yes? The media hasn't reported on Kuchiki Rukia for some months now. No one really knows why Kuchiki Rukia has disappeared from the Kuchiki family."

A reason why pen names were highly valued in the Kuchiki clan. While heiress Kuchiki Rukia was disgraced, K.R. could be anyone, a bitter, vengeful anyone.

Kaien sipped his water. "Besides, Kuchiki, if you work with Ukitake-sensei, you don't have to use a pen name; you'll see your name proudly and boldly published underneath your creative titles. I never understood why your brother never published your name on your pieces, preferring to use K.R. If anything, that's a disservice to you and your writing eloquence."

She did really blush this time. "Kaien-senpai, you –"

He laughed. "Aw. Who knew little Kuchiki could get embarrassed? You're usually cool as ice with a humor to boot. This is the first, right, sensei?"

Ukitake didn't answer, but his smile said everything.

"What is it, Kuchiki? You in?"

She beamed. For the first time, she didn't have to live and write like a ghost, existing only for the Kuchiki clan but non-existent to the readers.

"It's a yes."

"Cheers!" Kaien raised his Moscow mule in joy.

"Thank you, Ukitake-sensei. I'll need some time to tell my – " She really hated using the word boss to describe Ichigo, but he fit the criteria for now. "Boss. Can I have at least a month?"

He shook his head. "I'm confident in your abilities, Kuchiki. Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise. And yes, of course, take your time. We're still finalizing the building's location, rent, and such."

Kaien finished his beer, content with the flavor. "By the way Kuchiki, do you think you can write another piece for me?"

"Already stealing her away from me, Kaien?"

"No, no, sensei!" Kaien stopped, deciding to talk a bit lower, "A tip called in and has some information about Aizen, and wants to talk to you. I think they're a legitimate source."

Rukia's eyes shined not because she was bent on retribution but did want to follow up with her other pieces Espada published.

"Sure, I would love to talk to them."

Kaien grinned. "I knew you would."

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.

.

As usual, Lisa and Rukia had lunch together, sometimes staying at Shoten, lounging and dining in the common's area, or Rukia driving them somewhere away from the office. They both wanted air where wires and smart metals were not omnipresent.

Slurping on some udon, Lisa swallowed and asked, "You weren't here yesterday so I couldn't ask. How did the date with Kensei go?"

Rukia shrugged, munching on a daikon. "It was just one date. I didn't expect anything." She looked at Lisa. "Were you expecting something to happen, Yadōmaru-san?"

"No, in fact, Kensei told me you were charming and according to him, he didn't expect you to be so short. Because from my very detailed description of you, he expected you to be tall; don't get him wrong, he said you had some nice legs. For a shorty."

Rukia bristled when she heard the word: short. It wasn't descriptive, but it sure haunted her. She would like to think she was petite.

"Come on, K. I know you have a height complex, but Kensei did say you were hot."

She slurped her noodles, something her Nii-sama would glare at her for, refusing to humor Lisa.

"Hey, don't get upset with me. I'm just the messenger."

"Actually, you're the parrot, Yadōmaru-san."

"But he also said that you didn't seem that interested in him."

"That's true, but what he didn't also tell you was that he, encapsulated in his very serious, dark aura, didn't think we were compatible either."

Lisa nodded, setting her wooden chopsticks down. "He did say something like that, but he thought maybe another date or so would have happened."

"It's fine. Sometimes one date leads to expected results."

"That means no second date?"

"It was already established between us, but please tell Muguruma-san going bowling and then him forgetting his tattoo appointment and then asking if I could come with him so we wouldn't prematurely end our date will forever remain as my most memorable date."

Lisa had to maintain her composure because she almost lost it. "He did not."

"Indeed, he did."

"He didn't share this with me. What did he get this time?"

"He initially asked for what he described as a hollow mask, and he described it very specifically and even provided a sketch, but because his face scared the artist so much, making him twitch in fear every so often, he ended up getting a deformed Jason mask on his forearm. Halloween will forever be imprinted on him. Such a fantastic story: I was present for a tattoo that he regretted, and it wasn't even my fault."

Lisa and Rukia stared at each other, silently promising each other not to laugh in public, but this was proven to be too difficult; their faces were turning red due to a lack of oxygen.

After being politely asked to leave the udon shop, Rukia and Lisa talked about hanging out less because they couldn't stop laughing with each other. But in the end, they decided that everyone could go to hell if they were forbidden to laugh heartily and healthily.

Not every establishment needed to abide by the cold Kuchiki conduct.

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.

.

Ichigo read over the reports Rukia emailed him and then looked at his window where Rukia was; she was reading another gossip magazine, continuing her performance as the prototypical secretary. He wondered how her date with Kensei went, knowing it wasn't any of his business. He had no right to ask.

He noticed that she and Lisa went to lunch together and most likely talked about the date. Rubbing his neck, Ichigo still couldn't imagine Rukia giggling like a high school as she revealed her fantastic date with a handsome, older, tattooed man. That image was so unlike Rukia. And Lisa was tightlipped about it as well, and Ichigo knew better than to ask her. He hasn't seen lately at their meetings lately, which baffled him. Kensei never missed a training session.

All this thinking and hypotheticals were tiresome, dragging him down. He needed some coffee.

A knock. It was Rukia.

Instead of commanding her to enter, he got up and opened the door for her.

"Thank you kindly, Mr. Kurosaki. Here's a cup of freshly brewed coffee."

How did she know? He stared at her, amazed and perhaps even falling a bit more for her simple act of kindness. A few days ago, he saw her chatting with one of the maintenance staff, idly chatting with him as he was wiping the windows. Such a small gesture, but it meant the world to the employee as she gifted him a box of donuts she picked up after learning that his youngest son loved sweets.

"What?"

"I noticed you usually drink a cup around 3pm. I was getting some coffee and thought I should be nice once in a while and bring you a cup. Here."

He took the cup and stared at her, wanting to know about her date with Kensei, but instead, he should just ask her out on a real date and get to know the real K. Rukia. If she was willing to go on a date with Kensei, then maybe he had a chance, too. The only difference between Kensei and himself was that the former never had any casual flings that bit him back in the ass.

Rukia, on the other hand, was getting confused. Did Kurosaki want to ask her something? The way he was staring at her was a bit unnerving; it wasn't unwelcomed, everyone always stared at each other, but that look was something that she never associated with the big bad boss. Lisa's words saturated her entire brain as she recalled what she said previously.

"Well, if you don't need anything else, I'll be outside."

"Wait, Rukia, do you –"

Urahara called him. Bucket hat always knew when to ruin the moment, or at the very least, a guy's chances.

"What do you want, Urahara-san?"

"We have a visitor, Kurosaki-kun," he sang happily.

Ichigo wanted to curse his partner, but then again, it wasn't like he could muster enough courage to ask Rukia on a date. But then again, who knew if he was able to go through with it had Urahara not interrupted.

Rukia simply waved at him, pitying him a bit because that man meant trouble and walked away from him. Yet again.

"Who is it?" he couldn't help but snarl.

"Long time no see, Ichigo," she greeted, and he could visibly see her fangs protruding from her mouth, wanting to eat him alive as she humiliated him.

He gulped.

"Kurosaki-kun, I found a new investor. You remember Yoruichi-san, right? Your aunt from another mother?"

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.

Yoruichi and Urahara cackled together as they indolently walked over to Ichigo's office. As they were speaking in hushed tones, occasionally touching each other's arms in a suggestive manner, someone caught Yoruichi's eyes.

Wasn't that little Byakuya's sister, Rukia? What was she doing here? She knew that something major happened in the Kuchiki clan and that Rukia was at the center of it, but no one knew what happened since she somewhat disappeared from the public eye. She was sure it wasn't scandalous, but the over-dramatic bunch that was the Kuchikis made it seem so, especially when the spunky and quirky Kuchiki was involved. She always liked that kid. She was not only intelligent, but too hilarious for her own good. She was the malfunctioned Kuchiki chip that they didn't want because she wasn't a part of their norm, all the more to appreciate her.

"Kisuke, who's that?"

"Ahhh. You also noticed an air about her, Yoruichi-san? That's K.-san."

"K.?"

Tipping his hat lower, he responded, "Yes, K. Rukia."

Was she an investor here too? Why didn't the Kuchikis announce anything? And why did she only refer to herself as K.? As she thought about it, she realized that maybe Rukia was using another shortened name to blend in. Because everyone here were clearly idiots if they didn't know who she was. She wondered if the Kuchikis knew about her brilliant op-ed, "A Subtle Shade?" She was rolling around the carpet as she read that piece. It was humorously written and scathing but her writing was within the topical scope of the current malpractices of current journalism.

"K. Rukia?" It was definitely Kuchiki Rukia; no one else had that name.

"Yes, she's Kurosaki-kun's secretary. And you know what that means." He hid his smile.

"Oh?" She grinned. Oh, this was going to be so fun.

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.

Rukia was positive she saw Shihōin-san's long purple hair. Unless it was just someone's wig floating around the building, it had to be her. She went back to her desk and looked at the recently updated files comprising of Shoten's investors and donors. She usually didn't keep track of these files because Urahara, who was the only partner who didn't have a secretary because he didn't want to use his technology production budget to pay for someone else's salary, exploiting other secretaries such as herself, to do his work. And there it was: ShihōinYoruichi of the Onmitsukidō Conglomerate was one of the many investors at Shoten.

She only met her twice, but from what Hisana told her, she and Byakuya were never friends, maybe they could be described as friendly adversaries at best. For some reason, both had a falling out because Yoruichi had zero patience for their family's unfairly outdated journalistic practices related to business and media and wasn't going to be become their main publishing head. Or something similar. Hisana didn't say much and she didn't push for additional information.

Kaien was calling her again, no doubt inquiring about her latest piece she was steadily working on. Her tip's trauma was too much and resurfaced after revealing what Aizen did to her, which also infuriated her. So, they only spoke every few days for an hour. She didn't see her sources as simply expendable and printable sources, but people who deserved time and space. This piece didn't have a deadline, not that it was important; her source's comfort was more of a top priority than anything else.

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.

 _Where was Rukia when you needed her long-winded stories and quips?_

He sometimes hated his young aunt's cat-like grin, it made her look feral. She was sitting on his chair, sitting like a meditative lotus on his chair and purred, "So, Ichigo, I heard you got a new secretary."

"I bet bucket hat told you."

Picking up one of his silver and black pens – his typical aesthetic, how predictably boring of him – and suavely twirled it around her fingers. "And if he did?"

He didn't respond, arms crossing as he looked away, hiding yet another blush.

 _Oh, this boy has it bad. I wonder why her? She's not his usual type. Actually, she's way more than his type._

"Ichigo, as your aunt," he interrupted her lecture.

"You're not my biological aunt, Yoruichi-san. You were my mother's best friend. I only called you aunt because my mother asked me to."

She dropped his pen, letting it roll until it fell off his dark oak desk; it was a symbolism of his imminent death, he knew it; his _aunt_ languidly cracked her knuckles. "What were you saying?"

He was defiant, but produced nothing but his signature scowl, which didn't scare – he wished – her or deter her. "Just as I thought. As I was saying, she looks way out of your league. Don't screw with her, Ichigo. She's definitely not like the others." That and little Byakuya would have his head if he knew such a man with – a scandalously sexually active life – were to taint his sister. As much as she liked to tease Byakuya, Rukia deserved so much better. Those Kuchikis did a number on her, but she prevailed, getting the last word, and she didn't want to see her nephew making her life a living hell when she just got reincarnated into a new life. It was Ichigo's choice to have an active sex life with multiple partners, but she knew that Rukia wasn't like that. Wasn't she with that one guy forever before they broke up? Not that Rukia needed any protection. Her words alone could kill someone. She should know, she nearly died of laughter.

"Do you know Rukia personally, Yoruichi-san?"

"Well, we just properly met at this place."

First it was Lisa lecturing him about staying away from Rukia and now his own non-biological aunt. Were they attempting to tell him something? Was he not good enough for her?

 _Well, duh, Ichigo._

"Look, Ichigo. You're an annoying nephew that I wished I never had, but what can I do? I normally don't interfere with your life choices because your father does that enough." She tittered when he cursed his father under his breath. "But like I said, and this may sound hurtful to you, but you need to hear it, she's just out of your league. Look elsewhere. But not her."

Ichigo was growing irritated by the minute. Sure, yes, he agreed, she was way out of his league, but he liked her, not just physically, wasn't that enough? Didn't they see how he was not sleeping around anymore? He also slowly stopped flirting with the other secretaries in the building. He wanted Rukia in his life. He would like to try and be in a relationship with her, but if she didn't want him like that, he could respect that and be her friend. He just wanted to be in her life.

He was about to tell off his aunt, but she already disappeared. Still quick and agile like Houdini. Walking over to his desk, he saw a digital op-ed on his screen.

"A Subtle Shade" by K.R.

K.R.? Who the hell is that? And did his aunt bring it up to subtly shade him?

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.

.

Rukia was on the building's rooftop for the first time, looking at beautiful autumn sky. For once she felt a sense of tranquility that she never experienced. Everything was going well, almost too well, but if something changed suddenly, she just had to adapt. That was part of survival.

"I never expected to see the Kuchiki Rukia here, but I guess it makes sense since your main fields of expertise are in engineering and the STEM fields."

That voice had to belong to her. The role model she never knew she had.

"Hello, Yoruichi-san."

She grinned and walked over to Rukia, patting her on the head. "Don't be so formal with me, Rukia. You know Hisana and I are good friends; we have tea twice a month, and poor Byakuya has to deal with it."

She nodded and smiled, that rare, non-sarcastic smile. "I didn't know you were an investor here at Shoten. I didn't even know the Shihōin family were interested in startup techs."

Yoruichi coughed, but eventually couldn't hide her snicker. "Well, not really. But someone persuaded me in an unusual way, and it got me more _excited_ about the unlimited potentials of the future. You know what I mean?"

Rukia had to blink a couple of times, shaking her head. "I don't believe I do. Could you elaborate?"

Crouching in disbelief, Yoruichi stared at her. She didn't think Rukia was this slow when it came to innuendos; she couldn't even comprehend the context. "Uh, Rukia?"

"Yes?"

"How old are you?"

What did age have to with becoming an investor?

"25."

"Wait, you went to grad school when you were still a kid?"

"No, I was 16, but yes, I was technically still attempting to adult as a kid while trying hard to finish two graduate degrees before I turned 24. Contrary to what the _Big Bang Theory_ depicts, I'm not socially clueless."

"Could have fooled me."

"I'm sorry?"

"Rukia, the presentation pitch," she started again.

"Yes?" she seemed actually interested to know about the pitch. Either she was a robot, or she was just a curious person by nature.

"It was just me and Kisuke having sex, and I agreed during the throes of passion, and so now I'm kind of stuck with him."

"Oh, I see. I thought that may have been the case but didn't want to assume."

What? "I thought you didn't understand the context."

"Well, you said you were excited about the potentials of the future. I didn't know if you meant it literally or it was simply an innuendo. I needed the full context just to make sure I didn't offend you."

Once again, Yoruichi wanted to die from laughter; the laughing disease caused by Rukia. "Oi, Kuchiki. You make everything sound so technical, even my sex life."

Rukia snickered, delighting Yoruichi. "Someone else told me that."

"Tell me about ASS."

…

"Oh, Rukia. Only an idiot couldn't place two and two together. Even Kisuke knew K.R. is Kuchiki Rukia. That's why he's been overworking you. He knows you're more than capable of running this place but knows that you prefer to be the intelligent underdog. And he knows that you won't be staying here long. Besides, for someone with a proclivity with words and deconstructing them, you sure have the most unoriginal pen name."

"And yet he still pays me less than he should," Rukia chimed in, a bit ruffled about her lack of originality when it came to her pen name. It was prudent and strategic. Okay, maybe she lacked originality on that one.

"Is he now? Don't worry, if he's withholding your salary, let me know. I'll deal with him. You know what I mean?" She laughed a bit too morbidly, thinking of new ways to torture her not quite lover.

"I'm afraid not. Are you going to withhold sex from him until he pays me fairly?"

Yoruichi decided to leave the rooftop before Rukia really did kill her. That girl sure knew how to use words as a crude reiteration. Good thing this conversation was off the record.

"By the way, Rukia," she stopped walking, thinking of how to phrase this question clearly.

"Yes?"

"What's going on between you and Ichigo?"

That question was definitely overstaying its welcome.

.

.

.

Ichigo sat at the coffee shop, shaking his right leg out of nervous habit. It was a little past 7am and Rukia still didn't appear.

He sipped his black coffee, wondering if his dreadfully delightful aunt said something to her three days ago. He did notice that Rukia trailed behind Yoruichi, and the latter was squeezing her shoulder as if comforting her. Not that Rukia needed anyone to comfort, but they must have been talking about something.

Or someone. Like him.

Did his aunt say something bad about him? He confessed; he's not the best or most decent guy, but he was quite reliable. If offered the chance, he could –

Rukia walked in, hair a little out of place because it was either bed head or the aggressive winds today caused such disarray to her hair. Either way, she was still beautiful.

This time he waved at her.

Attempting to use her fingers as a makeshift comb, she walked over to him smiling.

.

.

.

* * *

End Notes:

I thought this was the final chapter, but I couldn't fit everything I wanted to in this chapter. I'm as long-winded as Rukia's character. But, hope you enjoyed; next chapter will be uploaded sometime. By the way, I cracked up at how many people hated Ichigo's character. Sorry?


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